


A Heart Stolen by Vampires

by Moonflower04



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Love Triangles, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonflower04/pseuds/Moonflower04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Vamprire Storyline. Slow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where's a Fire When You Need One?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is my first fanfic, and I'm really excited to see how this turns out. When I got Dawnguard I fell madly in love with Serana, Lord Harkon and his court. All the troubles in the court made me want to expand upon them, as well as the Dawnguard storyline itself. So I set out on the monumental task of writing a novel length fic about it. I've also decided to make some adjustments to the Dawnguard storyline to make it more interesting. If you enjoy the story, more content has been posted on Fanfiction. Feel free to leave your comments, questions or concerns, I definitely want to hear what you guys have to say.

The snow fell in thick sheets, but Arela hadn't expected anything different from northern Skyrim. Moments like this made her feel blessed to be a true Skyrim raised Nord; she had adapted to the cold, and it was only a bonus her Nord blood allowed some resistance to the numbing cold. The frigid air had been nipping at her skin for almost an hour, which caused her exposed fingers to turn a bright shade of magenta.

Arela was satisfied with her decision to bring her Nightingale armor, which clung tightly to her body keeping in her body heat and shielding her in the shadows away from prying eyes. It only helped that this blizzard would disguise her as well; she was convinced that no one could see her now.

The snow whirled around her obscuring everything in her sight; she could hardly making out the giant decrepit castle in front of her. The castle had two visible spires, one of which looked like it was about to topple into the sea. Arela had heard stories from sailors at the bars in Riften about this place. They claimed the place has been haunted well before the first era, and now seeing the castle for herself only made the stories seem more realistic.

She couldn't help but chuckle at how funny fate seemed to be. Only a few days ago she had been kicking back at Fort Dawnguard, and now she was hiding in a frozen ditch next to an old watchtower.

Arela almost missed Fort Dawnguard, the nice warm fires, and hot meals; it was a haven for the cold and hungry. But she was sure that many of the members had been glad the day she had departed for Dimhollow Crypt. Arela had a way of finding trouble, and pulling pranks on many members of the fort hadn't helped. She had been raised in the Thieves Guild and pranks had been a daily occurrence. She had learned from the best; Delvin had always been a master at pulling pranks.

So, when things had gotten boring, which was frequent, she would often pull a prank or two. Her favorite was when she had put worms in Isran's boot's, but the best part was Arela had framed Agmaer – the newest member at the time. She was confident that after a short time Isran began to suspect her, because he realized Agmaer wasn't smart enough to think of such brilliant pranks.

So when the Vigilant Tolan had come complaining about powerful vampires destroying the Hall of the Vigilant Isran decided it would be great to get rid of Arela and her brother Enden; they had always been the most obnoxious members at the fort.

Isran had sent them to Dimhollow Crypt with Tolan. Tolan was dead when they even got there; he thought it was a magnificent idea to charge in by himself.

She was pretty sure Isran was hoping that the vampires would kill them, because he had been silently infuriated with Arela and Enden since they joined. But Arela and Enden were definitely more powerful than a small militia of vampires.

But what they found at Dimhollow was what really disturbed her the most. Enden had found a young woman trapped in a monolith. The women's blazing orange eyes and her snow pale skin had given it away – she was a vampire. Honestly Arela didn't have a quarrel with vampires, but Enden did. He despised them to their very core, and Isran was a whole other story.

The mystifying part was this young girl had an Elder Scroll; something that Arela had only encountered once.

Arela only felt empathy for the young girl, she seemed so lost and confused – it reminded Arela of herself after she had joined the Nightingales. That had been the most difficult period in Arela's life, when she had ventured to hunt down Mercer Frey for the Skeleton Key; she hated to even think about the whole ordeal.

The mysterious woman said her name was Serana and that she wasn't sure how long she had been locked away. So, she urged Arela and Enden to take her to her home north of Solitude. Arela's brother, Enden, had decided that he would take Serana 'home' and quietly told Arela to follow them;. He wasn't sure if he could trust Serana. Arela had split up from them after they freed Serana from Dimhollow Crypt – Enden had wanted Arela to cover their tracks, but she was at least a one day's journey behind them. As of now she had tracked them here, to Castle Volkihar.

And now because of her brother's paranoia Arela was crouching behind some freezing rocks, next to a watchtower waiting for something to happen. She had been sitting outside for at least an hour waiting for any signs of her brother or the mysterious woman named Serana. She had begged them to take her home, claiming that she needed to figure out what was going on. Serana told them that they could be safe at her home, depending on who was there. Which didn't comfort Arela at all, now that she was crouching behind the castle's watchtower.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Another half an hour had past; Arela was starting to get restless, and drawing pictures in the frozen dirt was beginning to get boring. If nothing happened soon Arela considered jumping back into the boat and rowing herself back to Skyrim's shores.

As Arela was contemplating leaving she heard low murmurs from over by the small boat behind her. She slowly shifted her feet hoping to make the least amount of noise possible. Arela strained her ears to hear what they were talking about.

"Do you smell that Stalf?" Arela just made out the words, which were said by a women with a frail, but high-strung sounding voice.

Arela's muscles tensed instantly at the comment, and her heart started to pick up its pace in her chest. She stopped breathing for a second, afraid that her own breath might compromise her position.

The man or vampire which was more likely, named Stalf scoffed. "Fura, are you getting forgetful? I'm pretty sure it's just the lingering smell of that one mortal that arrive during our court meeting yesterday with Lady Serana." Arela's heart beat slowed a bit – she assumed the mortal they were talking about was Enden. So Enden is somewhere in that castle, and so is Serana.

"I'm not forgetful, it smells more resent to me. I think you're losing your touch, Stalf." The woman Fura snapped.

Arela silently scooted over more, hoping she could maybe get a glimpse of the vampires' position. Arela nervously leaned forward silently praying to Nocturnal that she wouldn't be spotted by the vampires.

Unfortunately, the only thing Arela saw was a small brambly bush next to the boat and a heap of rocks. But she saw footprints in the thick snow and they lead to the castle so she felt a little relief wash over her.

Arela slowly turned around to face the opposite direction of the boat, relieved the two vampires had left.

In a split second Arela realized she was mistaken, when she was met with a pair was of glowing, reddish eyes that blazed like fire. Arela stumbled backwards, but instantly she felt the hand of her attacker wrap about her neck, and her feet leave the ground as the women lifted Arela in the air. She let out a muffled scream, but it was only in vain, as no one was around to hear it, other than a man who was behind her attacker. It must be Stalf, she assumed.

Arela wiggled frantically, desperately praying her attacker might lose her grip on Arela's neck. But Arela only felt the hand constrict around her neck with a crushing force, and genuine fear set in as her lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, and her vision started to blacken around the edges.

"Well, well, look what I found," Fura said in a wicked tone, as Stalf watched Arela choke out.

Finally Stalf spoke. "Fura, I'm sure that you would love to kill this mortal, but our Lord will want to discover her reasons for trying to ambush us. If she is a spy Lord Harkon will want to deal with her." Her attacker, Fura, let out a disheartened sign, before she loosened her grip on Arela's neck, but just enough so she didn't feel like her windpipe was being turned to dust. Arela still couldn't breath and her vision was starting to darken so quickly she felt unconsciousness creeping in.

"Stalf, you ruin all the fun." Fura uttered, though Arela could hardly comprehend anything, the lack of oxygen was making it impossible to focus. "I suppose I can spare her life for right now, but only because it would please Lord Harkon, and you know how I live to please him." Her suggestive tone disturbed Arela more than anything, but Fura continued in the same tone of voice. "Plus he would want to kill her himself – he loves to have a little bit of fun from time to time." Fura's grip on her neck loosened a bit more, just enough for Arela to get a small gasp of air.

Stalf chuckled lowly and said "Oh, I know how to ruin all the fun, do I?" His voice sounded lightly flirtatious.

All Arela could think about was beating his brains in. How can anyone be flirting at a time like this. She was choking to death! Stalf then turned a bit more serious and his voice lowered an octave, "Fura you know we can't take her back to the castle awake, Lord Harkon would make sure we never saw another night again."

"Oh, you're right Stalf, don't worry I'll take care of it."

Instantly Arela felt Fura's hand jerk back in a lightning fast movement. In that moment Arela's head connected with the stone wall of the watchtower behind her with breathtaking force. Stars jutted across her vision before she fell into an unconscious slumber.


	2. Waking Up With Skooma Addicts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a really long chapter originally, but I decided it might be better to split it into two chapters. The next one is a bit longer, but this one is leading up to it.

Slowly consciousness washed over her, in a warm wave. Arela could hear the swirl of muffled talking around her, but that only made her close her eyes tightly. Fear coiled in her stomach, like a snake making her feel nauseous. But she knew she couldn't hide forever in herself induced darkness, she would have to face whatever reality was around her, and so Arela reluctantly opened her eyes.

Her fingers were numb and tingles shot up her spine when she moved her feet, her eyes felt dry and painful to move with the blinding headache raging behind them.

Arela was greeted with the sight of a prison cell, in what looked like a dungeon. She hesitantly looked over her shoulder to see a small number of people on the right hand side of the cell; they were in rags and mumbling incoherently to each other, hugging closely to the cold stone of the walls.

She gazed toward the ceiling, confirming by the height of the rocky ceilings. She was most likely in a dungeon.

Arela looked around and noticed a pair of old crumbling stairs in front of her, assuming it to be the only exit. She moved her hands to get up and noticed the ground was covered in a thick layer of bones that were coated in a black slim. Her mind jumped at the sight and immediately she knew her fate. Vampires.

Arela quickly pulled herself up. Her head was spinning from the rush of blood that traveled away from her brain, and an intense headache formed.

Taking off her Nightingale hood, Arela rubbed the back of her skull to null the pain. But realized she had a large lump forming on the back of her head. She could feel a small amount of her own blood trickling from a gash on the back of her scalp.

There was no way to treating the wound in this cell, so Arela silently prayed to Nocturnal that the gash wasn't too serious.

Arela turned her thoughts onto an escape plan. She knew she needed to get out, feeling desperate she turned to the people on the other side of the cell.

She could tell some of them had been here awhile, their eyes had become sullen and dark against their white skin, their hair had taken a whitish haze over their natural color and their bright blue veins could be seen through their thin skin that was covered in tattered rags.

It might be a great idea to ask them if they knew anyway out, but she doubted it or they wouldn't still be here. But against her better judgment she walked up to an Imperial woman, and asked.

"Do you know a way out?" As Arela took a step closer she could smell the putrid stench of Skooma. The girl was so drugged that she probably couldn't even remember her own name.

But to Arela's surprise the Imperial girl turned to look at her. Her eyes were glassy and her gaze was dazed. "Where am I–?" The young girl stuttered. Before Arela could respond the girl passed out on a pile of rags. She thought bitterly as she looked down on the woman, breathing in harsh tight breaths. this day was not going well, but Arela had been through worse.

Arela decided she wasn't going to waste her time talking to her other cell members; she could tell that they were all in a similar state as the Imperial girl.

As she was assessing the situation on how to escape, Arela heard footsteps, and they were approaching at a fast pace, but to her relief it was only Serana. But Serana's expression unnerved Arela; the yellow of her immortal eyes were cold and angry, almost frightening.

"What are you doing here!?" Serana blurted out. "Do you have any idea what they will do to me, if they find out I told you where to find us?"

"Serana help me please, you have to get me out of here!" Arela's voice cracked in desperation.

"I can't – they are coming to get you soon you're on trial, but I can help. Well I hope – all I have to do is explain what happened to my father." Her eyes softened almost apologetic for their cold fire from moments ago.

"Your father?"

"Well yes, he presides over the court." Serana's expression only became edgy at the mentioning of her father. "I'm sorry to say but after we sort out the matter of how you arrived here, there is going to be a bigger problem." Serana looked nervous, as if afraid if her location was discovered she might not see tomorrow.

"What could be a bigger problem than being captured by a group of blood thirsty vampires?"

"Let me explain. My father is going to offer you a – gift as he calls it. It's a gift for the assistance in my safe return."

"Oh, you make it seem like receiving a gift is a punishment." Arela joked halfheartedly.

"Well this gift I'm talking about is vampirism, a special form of vampirism, and I'm afraid you will probably have to accept it, if you wish to live." Serana muttered out awkwardly.

"What!? Wait so you're saying I have to accept this offering? Why? What will happen if I don't?" Arela couldn't keep the ferocity out of her voice.

"Well your brother, Enden, insulted my father by not accepting his offer... and I know my father will not take well to having two mortals turn down this gift in one day. I fear that he will – well essentially kill you for your 'insolence'." Serana was staring at Arela with a look of compassionate sorrow. "I'm sorry if this isn't a path you would choose personally, but I knew I had to warn you. My father doesn't take the answer 'no' lightly. I thought it was best to inform you before you decided to refuse him, you still can if you want but at least you will know the outcome."

Arela was submerged in thought and honestly, pure and unadulterated fear. Finally she was able to force some words out "So what is it like to be turned, is it painful?"

"For the person being turned it is – excruciating. There is no point hiding the truth, it is the worst pain you will ever feel. But for my father it will be quite, intimate. No mortal has ever survived his bite because in truth – he doesn't allow them to. I truly think he is afraid of the bond he will create with them."

"Bond?" Arela was trying with all her might to shake off a chill that had fallen upon her.

"When a vampire bites a mortal they enthrall them; making them their slave whom wish to please them at all times, you know. It's similar for a vampire turning a mortal. A bond is created that is distinct, you might become attached to my father. It has different effects on different people, for some there is no bond, but for others it is unbreakable, so I have heard. Being turned is – complicated to say the less. My father, I can tell has avoided it mostly thus far." Serana's expression made Arela feel uncomfortable. "The bonding part is why my father hasn't allowed any mortal to live, when he decides to change them, bonding isn't his thing, he despises it. Trust me, I have felt the blunt effects."

Arela was gripping the bars on her cell so tightly that Serana could see the whites of her knuckles. "I can't do this. It sounds like some lose-lose situation; no matter what I do there isn't a good outcome." She let her hands drop from the bars in a defeated fashion.

"If there was any other way I could help you I would. I just want you to know that I will think no less of you no matter what decision you make." Serana grabbed Arela's hand and held it as a comforting gesture.

"So, what did you mean by: 'I'm on trial.'" Arela asked with a shaky, desperate tone.

But before Serana could answer the question there was the distant sound of footsteps which made both of them turn their heads. "You will find out soon enough. I will cover for you this once, but you owe me." Serana smiled lightly before bolted off in a blur of shadows.

How Serana was going to get past them was beyond Arela's comprehension.

The loud foots steps were approaching; she could only guess it was two men.

Panic clouded her thoughts; she frantically slid her hood back on and ran in the corner to cover herself in a veil of shadows. Arela whirled around in time to see two male Nord vampires stop at her cell, open the door, and step in. She recognized the one vampire in dark robes from before.

The other vampire was wearing white robes; his hair was a dark brown and he had high cheek bones which cast a shadowy look over the sides of his face. But of all things the most peculiar thing was his nose; it was extremely high up on his face and look almost scrunched up.

They both locked their fiery yellow eyes on her, and before she could even make a move they had both grabbed each of her arms and were viciously dragging her out of the cell and up the crumbling stairs. "Let's not keep Lord Harkon waiting," they almost said in unison.


	3. The Cold Blooded Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for all the support. I'm so happy to see people are enjoying my story! This chapter is really intense and was one of my favorite chapters to write so far. You finally get to meet Lord Harkon! Personally I'm excited to see how you guys like it. So enjoy!

The two vampires dragged Arela up the steps and out of the dungeon with such brute force that Arela thought her arms were going to be ripped off.

Arela knew she wasn't going without a fight, though she realized it was futile because vampires are much stronger than man or mer.

Her fight resembled a temper tantrum of a six year old child. She kicked and screeched insults. "Get off me you slobbering, hagraven loving half-wit!"

But to Arela's discontent the two men only increased their grip on her arms, to the point that anymore force would have snapped her arms clean off.

"I will have dragons piss on your grave if you don't let me go now!" Arela screeched, with her fingers clawing at whatever they could touch of her attackers. They had finished climbing two flights of steps, but Arela was still wildly thrashing in their arms trying to escape, while stifling a scream of agony.

The one vampire Arela had recognized finally spoke. "If I were you I would shut up, Lord Harkon will not like it if you disrespect him while he is holding your trial. Am I right, Rargal?"

"Yes, you're right, Stalf, so shut up mortal or our Lord Harkon will snap your neck without a second thought!" Rargal growled at her. That comment silenced her, but she still attempted to fight them, though Arela knew she had lost.

They were now taking her through a small hallway that had two tables on each side of the wall, and on each of those tables were seven mighty kegs. Arela knew that Delvin would be in heaven here, there so much alcohol he wouldn't even know what to do with it all.

But when she inspected the kegs as she was dragged by, Arela was hit with shock as she saw the thick redness that dripped from them. Arela tasted bile as it rose in her throat and she tried to look away, feeling a twisted sense of rationalized fear and disgust, but her attacker's now firm hold of her kept her still.

Just the look of blood was so nauseating to Arela; her head started to spin and the world blurred around her. Although she was not pleased in her current position, she knew passing out was a high possibility for her weak stomach and she was slightly glad someone was helping her stay upright.

Stalf and Rargal's pace had slowed, and she realized they were near their final destination. Arela began to feel apprehensive.

It didn't take her long to figure out why. They were entering a dining hall full of vampires. Vampires of all races: elves, humans and even an Orc. It was odd to watch all the races getting along in peaceful harmony. No one has ever been able to get all the races to cooperate; only the Imperial Legion and clans of bandits had managed to stifle racism.

Arela couldn't stop the nervous cold sweat from running down her back now. These vampires look highly dangerous and well versed in the ways of combat. From their weapons she could tell most of them were powerful mages and experienced warriors. Their teeth gleamed over tight lips and their bright eyes watched her as she was brought past, feeling a thousand eyes of predators, Arela tried not to show her unease.

Stalf's words ran through her mind like wildfire, this trail could be the end of her.

Arela straightened her back as much as she could and held her chin high. Her confidence was slowly beginning to resurface. The same pride that had gotten her a high ranked member in the Guild, the pride that had led her to lead the Guild, and the same pride that had led her to succeed in most of her missions. If she was leaving the Nirn, she was leaving it with courage.

Arela breathed slowly, reminding herself of Nocturnal, whose favor she had. If Lady Luck deemed it, this trial might go well and she might not become the newest drinking fountain.

The room was dim; the only form of light was a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Beautiful tapestries hung from the walls which accented the old stone bricks. The tables were arranged in a U-shape with two servants in rags standing at the ends, serving what looked like blood in cups.

All the confidence that had once surged through her body drained from her with the sight that awaited her. On the tables laid people, people that looked worse than tortured victims.

Their limbs were mangled to the point they would never move again; they moaned in pain as she was dragged pass them. The coppery scent of blood twisted its way into her lungs and Arela didn't want to breathe. She could taste it on her tongue and her stomach recoiled.

Arela's heart skipped a few beats as she realized that very soon that could be her.

She wanted so desperately to run, but she was trapped like an animal at a slaughter house.

As Arela was struggling to escape, her attention was called to a tall Nord man with ebony black hair and a short beard standing in the middle of the dining hall floor. As Arela was dragged to the center of the room she got a decent look at his face.

He was a vampire, with dangerous eyes and paper white skin, but he had a commanding stature to him. His face contained a very blank expression, as if he did not want to give anything away. He reminded her of a politician because their expressions never voiced a single emotion.

He had a small amount of visible wrinkles from the passing of time, but the Nord vampire still looked fairly young.

He was wearing a blushing red shirt under a gray colored chest plate that had gilded shoulder plates. It seemed he had a black flowing cape that was surprisingly short, pinned up with a silvery broach. Everything about him reminded her of the Jarls, from his fancy and elegant attire, to his cold and unwelcoming expression.

The Nord man finally turned his attention to Arela. His eyes were like liquid gold with the brightness of the moon that ruled them, but they were cold as they washed over her body, undressing her to the very bone.

Stalf and Rargal shoved Arela at the Nord's feet, forcing her to stare at his black boots. Arela knew that the Nord must love humiliating his victims before their death.

Arela wasn't planning on giving him the satisfaction he desired; the satisfaction of begging for her life before his minions. Arela had never begged for her life in all the confrontations with death she had encountered, and she wasn't about to start now.

"It's not every day that my court members find a mortal lurking outside my castle." His voice was oddly enthralling and robust, demanding her full attention, even though his tone was filled with malice. "I am sure you're wondering why you're still alive." His last comment was a leer. "Are you working for the Dawnguard perhaps?"

"I wasn't spying for the Dawnguard sir, if that's what you're asking. I was told to come here." Arela tried to keep her voice steady, so they wouldn't know that she was terrified out of her mind, feeling the cold sweat dripping down her forehead under her Nightingale mask.

The Nord man cocked his eyebrow up a little in curiosity, "Who told you to come here then? I know of no one in my castle that would even talk to a mortal." His voice had turned severely bitter. "Do I smell a fabrication?"

"I was told by a vampire named Serana to come here. I helped her escape from Dimhollow Crypt. She entered the castle with my brother Enden, and she told me to wait outside the castle."

The once muffled whispers around the court stopped. The new apprehensive silence was deafening in Arela's mind. He was now coming to verdict to kill her or not, her life was in the hands of a stranger. The other vampires quietly were now anxiously waiting for the response from the man in front of her.

Gradually the Nord vampire turned around to face a girl seated at the head table. Arela had noticed her sitting at the table before. But the girl's face had been too dark to identify. She had been looking down at her cup the whole time ignoring the events that were transpiring, but Arela had guessed it was Serana. Straining her eyes to make out who it was, Arela's suspicions were confirmed. It was Serana; she was sitting at the table pretending to be utterly shocked. Her porcelain skin seemed even paler and her eyes wide and bright with astonishment.

Arela couldn't deny Serana was a good actor. If Arela didn't already know it was a staged expression she would have believed it herself.

The Nord man's voice sliced through Arela's thoughts. "So, my daughter, do you feel the need to tell every mortal where we live?" He said in a very mocking tone.

Arela was stunned; she couldn't even believe this man was Serana's father. It was believable they looked very similar, but it was still a shock to her, like her mind couldn't comprehend the fact. Serana's warmness rivaled his icy tone with such contrast it seemed their blood couldn't be mixed in the same bowl.

Arela was snapped back to reality by Serana who now had made her way over to Arela.

Serana shooed away Stalf and Rargal, who had been forcing Arela to stare at the feet of Serana's father and she felt an immediate overwhelming sensation of relief.

Stalf and Rargal scurried away like frightened rats, and took their spots at a table. It seemed that Serana had power over them, they feared her that was the only explanation. There was no other reason they would run from her.

Serana helped Arela to her feet, and made sure Arela could stably stand before turning to her father again.

"Don't patronize me Father." Serana proclaimed in an irritated tone. "She saved me, and I told her to wait outside the castle awhile to make sure no one had followed us here."

Serana was outright lying to her father, but Arela was thankful for it; it was making the situation less painful than it could be.

"Don't snap at me for being ignorant of the situation, you could have mention such a detail when you arrived with that other mortal." Serana's father said in a defensive tone, he was obviously becoming annoyed by his daughter and the situation.

"Well, I forgot. I was just overwhelmed by the extremely warm welcome home." Serana's statement was laced with sarcasm, but to Arela's surprise Serana's father ignored it.

His attention was fixed on Arela again, and the look he gave her made the hairs stand up on Arela's arms.

"For the assistance in my daughter's safe return you have my gratitude. Now tell me, what is your name?" He asked inquisitively; for the first time he didn't look genuinely irritated.

"My name is Arela. Who are you?"

"I am Harkon; Lord of this court. By now I trust my daughter has told you what we are?"

"Oh no, I was under the impression that you were a reclusive cannibal cult." Arela sarcastically stated, but Harkon didn't take the hint.

Arela shouldn't have expected a man who looked like a politician to get the sarcasm. They're too straight lace to laugh.

Serana was suppressing a cheeky grin, and out of the corner of Arela's eye she caught it. But their moment of silent laughter was broken by Serana's father.

"Not quite, though I could see how an outsider might arrive to that conclusion. No, we are vampires, among the oldest and most powerful in Skyrim." Harkon stated it haughtily; stroking his beard in a proud yet nervous fashion before starting an apprehensive pace around Arela and Serana.

"For centuries we have lived here, far away from the cares of the world. But all that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most." When Harkon mentioned his wife Arela could tell by the way his fist clenched he was trying to contain his anger. Yet his face seem to display another emotion, to Arela it seemed like shame, caused by the betrayal of the women he probably once loved.

"Am I going to receive a reward for helping in the return of your daughter?" Arela was starting to feel uncomfortable from his scrutinizing gaze. She saw no other reason for postponing the subject that she knew would come up.

"I was about to suggest that very thing. Yes, you most certainly deserve a reward." Harkon's voice sounded shrill in her ears. She wasn't sure if his tone had just been vivid or seductive but Arela wasn't going to dwell on such a minute detail.

Arela's heart skipped a beat as he stopped pacing in front of her and took a few steps closer to invade her personal space, feeling the air sucked from around her, she kept a poker face.

She was forced herself not to move; even though every fiber of her being screamed for her to step back. It was a test to see if Arela would hold her ground. If she stepped back now Harkon would deem her weak because she lacked confidence and confidence was something Arela certainly had.

Harkon finally continued on his speech, his eyes were burning into her very skin, making it crawl wildly. "There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood." Arela recoiled at the mention of blood, but Harkon ignored the gesture and continued. "Take it and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach and you will never fear death again." His dark voice rang.

"And if I refuse your gift?"

"I was afraid you might suggest that possibility. You will become prey, like all mortals. I will... spare your life just this once, as I did for Serana's other mortal companion, but you will be banished from this hall." He crossed his arms over his chest in an aggravated style. "Perhaps you still need convincing?" Harkon's voice was becoming ridiculing. "Behold the power!"

Harkon gripped his chest, as if in extreme agony. Arela noticed black ooze crawling across his body and encase him. All of a sudden a monster burst from the once ooze covered Harkon. It was at least eight feet tall and had smooth pale blue skin with wings that were thick and tattered from age. An elaborate crown was atop its head and an aged red cape was dragging behind. He looked alien and strange, like the first time she saw an orc or Khajiit. His presence suddenly felt more wrong, he felt too powerful. She bit her tongue.

And yet, she didn't expect it. Staring up at the tall dooming majesty of the great creature, the word 'vampire' did not cross her mind.

"This is the power that I offer! Now make your choice!" Harkon's voice was harsh and demanding, as he slowly turned back into a human.

Arela noticed that he left out the details about all mortals dying from his bite, and how irate he would get if she decided to say not to accept his gift. Arela didn't doubt Serana's words; she trusted them more than Harkon's fancy speech.

Harkon's eyes contained a dark strength to them; a hungry shimmer that only one who had seen that look before could detect, as he waited for Arela's response.

Arela's head began to spin like a whirlwind, the stress was killing her and the overwhelming scent of blood wasn't helping, it was causing her to feel sick.

Arela was snapped back to the decision at hand, and unfortunately neither of the options were obvious. Arela felt as if she was being torn apart, both options were extremely dangerous and both had a high probability of... death.

Arela knew the best way to solve her problem was to started a debate in her head. She quickly weighs the pros and cons of becoming a vampire.

She had always preferred night over day. Arela had been raised believing that the shadows were her guardian: they shielded her and most of all protected her from unwanted eyes. That was how thieves had survived for centuries. The hardest part would be getting used to blood... Arela had hated blood for as long as she could remember, the thick deep color, the coppery scent of pain, she was unsure if she could ever get used to it.

Sadly being a vampire didn't sound too bad, and Arela was almost sold on Harkon's offer. But Arela hadn't considered the most important factor yet... her family and the Guild.

What would they think of her if they found out she had become a vampire? It seemed that Enden had not taken Harkon's gift, for Harkon had stated that he spared his mortal life. Arela knew that Enden loathed vampires. If she turned he wouldn't have an ounce of respect for her; he might even kill her, she didn't know.

There was no way Arela could have any connections with the Guild or her family if she chose vampirism... the only friend she would have left would be Serana.

Arela weighed her last option, staying mortal and dying quickly, but for some reason instantaneous death didn't sound too appealing.

If being a vampire meant being friends with Serana, Arela figured she could survive.

Arela stole a glance at Serana, her eyes only expressed acceptance; it was her sign. Well, it was good knowing Serana was going to support her choice no matter what.

Arela finally turned back to Harkon; he was beginning to look at her skeptically and impatiently.

She knew that she had to make a decision and fast. Arela took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I have made my choice. I will accept your gift and become a vampire."

"Good, I see you have made the right decision." Harkon insisted. "Be still." He took another step in and closed the gap between them. Arela knew what was going to happen next, and her heart was racing out of control.

Arela looked up at him, he was a few inches taller than her, and Arela instantly figured out were Serana got her height from. Arela hadn't stood so close to a man since she left the Guild and worst of all left... Cynric.

She saw a small sly smile creep onto Harkon's face. She guessed he could hear the beating in her chest quicken and he could sense her anticipation. Arela was trying to brace herself for the incoming waves of pain.

But Harkon broke her concentration.

"You're going to have to remove your hood," Harkon insisted.

Arela reached for her Nightingale hood and slowly removed it, revealing her dull gingery hair that shinned in the dim chandelier light and her stormy green eyes that burned with potential. She had light freckles on her nose and her cheeks seemed to glow a blushing pink.

"Well, what an unexpected turn of events," Harkon responded in an oddly neutral tone, which caused Arela to blush fiercely.

Before she could even say a word, he grabbed her head in one swift motion and leaned it enough so her neck was exposed. Arela could feel his breath brush on her neck, it was colder than ice.

Harkon quickly dug his fangs into her skin, and Arela could feel the icy sting of his bite. Struggling feebly under his grip, Arela tried to escape the burning pain that surged into her neck. She could feel the blood leaving her body, as Harkon drank from her in an animalistic manner. And then she felt soothed, tranquilized and dizzy.

It seemed like a period of time but it could have been moments when he released her.

Arela felt her sense of balance sway, and she staggered to the right. She was able to grab hold of the table edge as she tried to sturdy herself, but finding her arms too weak to support her she crashed to the floor.

The burning returned in glory and fire, kindling away at her organs and muscles and in her very mind, the fire raged in her eyes as the world warped around her, turning and turning whilst her body died.

"What did you do to me?" She screamed and doubled over in pain.

Arela saw Harkon walk over to her, his expression mirrored one of disappointment. But his silence spoke louder than any words. His expression spoke only one word. Death.

Arela was going to die, here on this blood stained floor, in agonizing pain, alone.

No one even knew she was here, and now she was going to go the Evergloam, Nocturnal's dark realm, where she would wait for Brynjolf and Karliah to join her.

After surviving dragons, daedra, and Mercer; she was going to die from the bite of a vampire; it just seemed so... shameful.

Serana dived to Arela's side. "No, I shouldn't have allowed my father to – to poison you." Serana stuttered, her expression was one of sorrow – eyes clouded with regret. She gripped Arela's hand tightly in distress.

But Arela's brain was driving her into a type of a coma, trying to protect her mind from the intensity.

A torturous burning sensation that was all she remembered before an unrelenting harrowed sleep fell upon her.

The world faded into darkness as Arela sunk into comforting familiarity.


	4. A Night Worth Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Serana romance, slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I just want to thank all my followers; you guys truly mean the world to me! Thanks for all the reviews and the support.

Her eyes jutted open and for the second time in one day Arela woke up with no recollection of where she was.

Again she was lying on a grimy floor next to a pile of rubble. She felt the grit under her nails and the ache behind her eyes but at least Arela wasn't surrounded by Skooma addicts this time.

Arela's sore eyes roamed the room; her vision was slightly blurry at first. After blinking repeatedly her eyes became clearer and everything began to seem brighter and more vivid, stretching before her.

Her eyes saw with a blinding clarity that before she couldn't have even managed to explain. It was painful as the colors of the world screamed at her, announcing their existence and the details of a crack in the stone floors made their way into her acknowledgment.

Her eyes were like that of a newborn, they felt new and unused, even the dullest of details seemed thrilling and interesting.

The room was a cathedral, with a few windows exposing the room to an amount of fragmented, scattered light, the dust floated through the murky room and settled on mighty and frightening statues made of worn stone and nightmares.

The light touched the room in frightening ways, it decorated the room, drawing attention to the grotesque shapes of the unmoving stone gargoyles that littered it, the dried blood that stained the floor and the shadows that seemed darker.

She saw fleshless corpses and she almost wished she had been blind folded, or left in the dark; the monstrosity that lay near her toes, beneath the might of the statues, didn't frighten her, but disgusted her. The ivory bones crumbled when she moved away, some were old and some were fresh, but they were picked clean by their predators. Arela bit her lip, to calm the nervous tension pulsing inside her.

Arela knew she was different now. She wondered if anything about her was the same anymore, the way she moved when she stood was silky and catlike, the feeling of stone felt colder and rougher when she ran her fingers along it to test its texture, and her eyes.

Darting her head around the room, she found herself a murky puddle of water. Kneeling down she looked and looked, but the more she looked, the less she could recognize.

Her eyes frightened her the most.

She looked like a painting done by a madman, her skin was the color of the bones at her feet, and her eyes the color of the bloodstains, and the faintest of life could be detected on her cheeks in a mild tone of pink.

Her eyes flickered in the reflection, flecked with orange and yellow; her sensational new vision was gifted beside burning eyes.

Pale blue littered up her white neck, veins dancing under her translucent skin, caressing the curves in her throat. She put her hand to her small neck in shock.

She was so frightening to look at, yet her fingers glided across her skin like silk, it was soft and faultless, and she pulled her fingertips to her face and tested her new features.

Arela pulled her darker lips back, revealing a feature she expected but still felt a tremble run through her when she saw – pearly teeth, and much sharper than before. She had two fangs on either side of her top row stretched down in dangerous sharp spikes.

Running her tongue along her new mouth, she tastes the metallic copper of her own blood and shuddered.

Everything seemed foreign to Arela. The face she had once been accustoming to seeing and had loved had been dismantled, and reconstructed into something that somewhat resembled her.

She felt like it was a dream, that the face she saw was not her own, the unfamiliarity of it was overwhelming; she was like a beautiful animal – a predator. But in her now brightly burning eyes and at the kiss of her lips, she could still see the burning passion she always kept in mind.

Arela turned away, and noticed that the empty room was now filled with another singular presence. Harkon stood at the end of the cathedral with his arms glued together in angst and his eyes piercing hers.

Arela's gaze was called to a shrine next to Harkon, where blood flowed from it like water, endlessly pouring into a pool. There was a foul face carved into the shrine, the daedric Lord of Domination, the Father of Immortals.

Arela forced her stiff legs to move cautiously over toward Harkon and the foul shrine of Molag Bal.

"Awake at last, good. I would have been quite... disappointed if you wouldn't have survived. I would have lost a new valuable asset." Harkon remarked elatedly. "The power is growing within you, and now you must now learn to wield it." He said calmly, but his eyes glowed with anticipation.

"What happened?" She looked up at the towering man. "How did I get here?" Her voice was shaky but it stood firmly on her lips.

"My blood is potent. At first, the body is overwhelmed by it. After my bite you collapsed on the floor and fell into a slumber. Now you flesh has acclimated to the new blood that course through your veins. I assure you, no harm was done." His smirk was twisted between wicked and a slightly provocative smile. "In truth your strength surprises me no mortal has been able to survive my... embrace."

Arela felt passionate rage throb through her, she knew that death was close by when she accepted his gift, but she never knew she was at its doorsteps. Her white fists clenched and she attempted deep breaths, one word out of turn might cost her the rest of eternity in a life not worth breathing for.

"Then how did you turn the other vampires in your court?" Arela quietly and cautiously asked, treading the waters of the conversation, testing carefully if the past was a border not to cross.

"The senior members were not turned by me, they were turned by my wife – Valerica" he spat the name out as if it were distasteful. "The younger members were turned by other members of the court or I turned them, but they were all weak blooded vampires, wishing for me to award my gift to them. Weak blooded vampires aren't overwhelmed by my blood." There was a small pause, and Harkon's eyes became like chips of golden ice; his expression was a cold sorrow.

"I have tried to turn a few mortals in the past, but their mortal forms were too weak. They could not withstand my strength but you – you are curious indeed."

"Well, I guess that makes me one of a kind." She implied giving him an arrogant grin.

"Perhaps, keep your thoughts in balance, however. I am the lord of this court and you will do well to remember, or lessons shall be taught of obedience." His voice was stern and hard, brutality bled through every syllable.

She stammered on her words, not wanting to appear weak and pitiful but the vampire lord had an iron face to speak and iron fists to strangle out any word said against him. He was not to be trifled with, but she wanted a firm ground. But before she even knew what her capabilities were, she knew it was best to stay silent.

"As to answer your other question we are at the shrine to the mighty daedric prince Molag Bal, he is father to all our kind. Our power is a blessing from him. It is he who first bestowed the gift of the ancient blood upon me."

"You made a pact with Molag Bal?" Arela asked in an inquisitive tone.

Arela herself had made a pact with a daedra, taking a promise with a daedric lord is not shallow waters of a wading pool, it is a curse and a gift in the same package and one who receives it is always equal to what will be served. Nocturnal, her Lady Luck, made a pact with her and two others as Nightingales so that they will receive her favor, the price to pay in return was not much, in this life.

Harkon shot Arela back to reality, with his powerful throat that could rival even a dragon's.

"In an age long forgotten to history, I ruled as a mighty king, my domain was vast, my riches endless, and my power infinite. And yet as my mortal life neared an end I faced a seemingly invincible enemy – my own mortality."

Arela had a hard time looking at him and considering him old by any standards. He was older than her of course, but he didn't look old enough to be concerned close to death. Unless people died younger back then, but Arela thought it was highly unlikely.

"I pledged myself to Molag Bal and in his name I sacrificed a thousand innocents. In reward, he gave everlasting life to me, my wife, and my daughter. And so I have defeated mortality itself." He declared condescendingly.

He has major ego issues, she chuckled internally. For some strange reason Arela was finding herself more or less intrigued by his cockiness. His high faith in his abilities was to her almost comforting.

Even if sometimes, he had a bad temperament. Harkon reminded her of Mercer, the one man that had taught her everything about being a thief. Yes, he had been a crude mentor, but it had been precisely what Arela had needed to motivate her. Mercer had known how to push Arela to her limits, and it had been as simple as praise.

Arela feed off the words and encouragement of others, and especially those who had power. Arela was intrigued, how powerful was Harkon?

"I'm curious, how did you become a king?" The question was one that tempted her all along, one she could not resist.

"That's a story for another day, perhaps. Now, are you done asking question so we can move on?" Harkon said, his voice itching with irritation.

"Well, I suppose" She said softly, she was doubtful; Harkon intended to teach her of her new powers but she was intimidated.

"With my guidance you will become a deadly instrument, striking terror into the hearts of mortals wherever you tread." His voice kept its dark, sadistic tone. But Arela was still caught on one word, instrument.

Arela wasn't sure at first how to respond, to his claim, she knew that she was far from a tool. And if she had to she would prove him wrong, so be it. Before Arela could stop herself she blurted out her itching question.

"Instrument isn't a befitting word for me." Arela stated righteously. She wasn't an instrument to anyone, not even a Lord of a castle.

"I will be the judge of that." Harkon sneered coldly. "Now, listen to my words and do exactly as I instruct." He said impatiently. "The true form of the ancient blood is found in the form of the Vampire Lord. Assume the mantle of the Vampire Lord and we will continue."

She couldn't hide her dreaded the thought of transforming into a vicious monster in front of Harkon. Arela looked down at her feet in a skittish habit. "I– I don't how to transform. I–I" Her stammer was very slow as she was trying to organize her thoughts. She felt ashamed before him, helpless.

Harkon raised his hand in an intolerant manner. Arela couldn't break her stare away from his glimmering yellow eyes, they had her so transfixed she felt as if she was frozen solid.

Harkon frowned, "I will teach you the basics. I expected you to able to pick lessons faster."

Arela smiled, flashing her new teeth, "I can be an observant learner."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what seemed like an hour, Arela had gained some coordination in her new 'body', Harkon had taught her the basics about the Vampire Lord, but the power of the Vampire Lord hadn't grown on Arela.

Actually she despised this new form, it left Arela feeling like a monstrosity from a child's book. She had never been so delighted in her life to be herself again when she was able to revert back to her previous form.

But being a vampire was sensational. Arela had superhuman strength; exceptional speed and agility enhanced well passed any mortal. Her other senses were heightened beyond Arela's own comprehension. She could only imagine what it would be like once she could control herself as a vampire lord! Just the few moments she spent in the blue grey body she felt the power equal to a daedric lord run through her.

She could hear a water droplet hit the floor a hundred feet away. Her sense of smell was so keen she could decipher multiple smells apart, it was almost maddening.

It was disappointing to even think Arela thought her skills were masterful before. But Harkon's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Do you not feel the raw power the vampire has offered you?" He exclaimed as if trying to promote its abilities to her.

"Well, yes I do." Arela uttered, trying desperately not to insult him.

"Now that our lesson is complete I would advise that you met the members of my court they are eager to meet you, I'm sure." Harkon was now staring into the distance as if lost in thought.

"You should report to Garan or Feran Sadri from now on until one of them assures me that you are ready for your first true assessment."

There was a short pause. "Oh I must mention that we are Volkihar vampires; we are very different from the weak blooded vampires. Some of the members of the court have rare talents. You might discover soon that you have inherited this trait. Many of my senior members have gifts, as do I. Inform me if you discover you do possess a talent."

"What's your ability then?"

Harkon stiffened at the question before a cloud of anger crossed his face. "My gift is my own, I trust you'll soon learn to not ask so many questions." Harkon exclaimed in rage before turning away and making his way out of the chapel styled room.

"Wait. I'm sorry, but I have one last question!" Arela yelled across the chapel before he left. Harkon spun around. His brilliant golden gaze was resting on her with a demanding demeanor.

"Why did you let me live, I know that mortals don't normally survive this. So why me?" Arela inquired softly, she was almost shaking in fear that Harkon would kill her now.

Harkon look at her with an insightful gaze, as if trying to unlock a puzzle. "It's because of your blood." He stated simply before exiting the chapel leaving Arela with her swirling thoughts, and a small amount of terror in the pit of her stomach.


	5. Covered In Nightshades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this chapter is a long one. It was a struggle to start this chapter for me, but once I got moving I think it turned out pretty good. This chapter is just needed to push the story onto more important issues. I would love it if you would read and review (even you lurkers who ever you are), just to give me a report on how I'm doing so far. Thank you and here we go...

Arela made her way out of the chapel and down a small flight of stairs. She was on her own, in this unfamiliar castle, and nothing struck fear in her heart more than that.

Harkon's words had left her mind in turmoil; she was fully unsure of the thoughts behind them and the plots that might follow. Nervously, her fingers dug into her sweaty palms as she walked with her tongue to her cheek.

Her blood wasn't different from any other morals or so she had thought. What in her blood could have possibly been different that would have caused a Lord of Vampirism to let her live? Could it have been her dovahsos – dragon-blood. No, she doubt Harkon would have been able to detect that. Or could he?

Arela pushed the thoughts aside and focused on scanning the hallway for anyone she knew – specifically Serana. Arela was disheartened when she saw no one, except one elf with blue grey skin and a coppery well-kept beard.

He was immersed in a worn book and his expression was unwelcome and submerged.

Arela swallowed. Unsure of his disposition, she took a step forward cautiously, her eyes still fixated on the Dunmer, as his hands that flipped through ancient pages.

She felt a wave of relief when he looked her way, and his expression was not displeased, but mildly interested.

"You are new here, are you not? Well if you like schemes and scandal you have come to the right place. I saw a great amount of political maneuvering in my time with House Dres, I was tired of it then and I'm tired of it now. My personal opinion it has only gotten worse here." The dark elf's voice expressed only exhaustion.

"What do you mean there is a large amount of political maneuvering here? What could they possibly be fighting over?" Arela couldn't refrain asking her question any longer.

"Most people here are fighting over Lord Harkon's throne, especially Orthjolf and Vingalmo; they are Harkon's main advisers. I am Harkon's senior member and one of his advises, he trusts me with many of his secrets... and some he can't hide from me."

The way he applied his last sentence made her skin crawl.

"What do you mean he can't hide his secrets from you...?"

"I'm guessing our Lord told you that some of us have obtained blessings... well I have the gift of precognition... or in other words I see, feel and hear glimpses of the future. Lord Harkon has used my gift as a way to keep Orthjolf and Vingalmo at bay; I know most of their moves before they do."

"That's impressive... Do most members have gifts?" Arela was pleased enough to be having a conversation with a senior member.

"No, only Harkon, Lady Serana, and... Lady Valerica. They have gifts; usually pure blooded vampires are bestowed special abilities. It's rare for members, like me, to gain powers." The Dark Elf's attention shifted back to his book, as if Arela's presence was a slight annoyance to him.

Arela examined the Dark Elf, as if sizing up a mark. There was a plethora of information she could tell from a person, just by looking at the details.

It took only moments to determine that he was a seasoned mage, the familiar scent of parchment was like perfume on his skin, and he spoke with great intelligence and experience. However, any wise man would know to defend them, but this elf carried no weapons plain to the eye.

He spoke with authority, like he had never been refused. His status in the court as an adviser depicted that the man had a way with actions as well as words, he was indeed very intelligent, if not, mildly arrogant. He reminded her of the red headed Nord, Brynjolf, back in the Thieves Guild, a strong leader, her second in command.

Arela knew she had to befriend this vampire or else she would be losing a formidable future ally.

"Hey, I don't think I ever caught your name." Arela was curious who this Dark elf was; it wasn't everyday she encountered someone who could see into the future.

"My name is Garan Marethi, senior member of the court." He even bowed, which seemed too formal, but Arela figured she was part of a court now and formality was a way of life here.

"It's nice to meet you, Garan. Lord Harkon told me I was supposed to report to you or some guy named... Feran Sadri; I think. But I was wondering if you could show me around the castle now? I need a tour guide or I'm sure to get lost."

Arela smiled innocently at him, which had solidified his reluctant agreement to show her around.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Two days had passed since Arela had become a vampire and she couldn't quite complain about her new life at the castle, it was intriguing.

Orthjolf had been trying to get her to join his personal vendetta against Lord Harkon.

Arela had nearly accepted; Orthjolf had a powerful charm, his smile could charm snakes and his voice could purely cure any unhappy soul of their depression.

Arela felt like he had yanked her heart clean from her chest, and was squeezing it causing Arela to lose her breath and for her heart beat to quicken.

But Garan had thankfully told him to stop corrupting the innocent new member.

Arela somehow knew that was not the last time Orthjolf would mention the subject. He seemed like the persistent type, because he knew he could win everyone over in time.

Garan informed her that she was going to be a much desired object by many power seekers on the court; solely because she was the only mortal Harkon has turned successfully.

"They all understand you have a bond with Lord Harkon, and that makes you a target." Garan had bluntly stated.

Arela couldn't have helped but gulp; she really didn't want to be a walking target. It was bad enough not knowing anyone here, and to even think vampires would already be plotting to kill her was dreadful.

Arela really missed Enden already; the security he brought was what made her nostalgic.

He had always watched Arela's back with a ferocity that only the most caring siblings contained. The thought of him being at Fort Dawnguard by himself made her cold to the core, for all she knew Isran was torturing him for information on her location.

At least Garan had taken her under his wing, fending off members like Orthjolf who would take advantage of Arela's ignorance of politics.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, and continued searching the library.

Since Garan had showed Arela the castle she had been drawn to the extensive library that Harkon had collected.

Many of the books here had been lost in the tides of time, and by the looks of them they hadn't been touched in hundreds of years.

Arela was searching through books of ancient kings and queens of Skyrim. This place contained books not even the College of Winterhold would have in their plethora of stories and history books.

Arela had been ripping out pages of the books that might hold leads on some treasure or ancient tombs filled with gold.

If the Guild could use the information to make some extra money, why not? Like Harkon was really going to miss these few pages? Arela highly doubted that, these books had even been touched in the last hundred years.

"So I'm not the only one in this castle that takes an interest in books?" Arela whipped around to be met with Serana's gaze.

Quickly, Arela slipped the torn pages into her pockets on her Nightingale armor.

"I have always loved to read. I suppose it's ironic, most thieves are illiterate. I was ridiculed in the Thieves Guild for reading books when I should have been practicing my lock picking." Arela said mockingly.

Serana leaned against the wall to her left side, as if to relax the mood.

"I'm a bit curious..." Serana exclaimed.

"Yes?" Arela questioned.

"Why you decided to become a vampire, most 'vampire hunters' would have chosen death by my father's hand. But you didn't, so why become a vampire?"

Arela frowned; she hasn't really wanted to tell Serana that, her gut had told her to be a vampire. But she was going to have to try and explain her reasoning to Serana.

"Because becoming a vampire meant there was a slim chance at survival. It wasn't indefinite death, but it was a high probability." Arela cleared her throat before continuing.

"Well, that and it felt the like the best option. Maybe it was just instinct or maybe it was Nocturnal guiding me to the light at the end of the tunnel. I knew that my family probably would never accept me for choosing vampirism, but I'm alive and I can fight another day and possible seek redemption."

Arela wasn't going to mention that she already wished to make amends with the Guild, if it was possible.

Serana smirked, "Well, it's good to see you alive for sure. I truly believed that my father had killed you, like the many mortals before you. I'm even more fascinated by the fact of why my father let you live. It's great that he did, but that doesn't sate my curiosity. At least now I'll have someone to talk to other than Fura and Hestla who only talk about how much they love my father. They frequently say I'm lucky to have such an accomplished man to call a father." Serana chuckled and Arela couldn't help but follow suit.

"That's creepy, do they love your father or something?" Arela asked through light and almost forced laughter.

"Everyone on the court claims to, though they're all back stabbing hypocrites." Serana's eyes were heavy.

"But I think Hestla just holds godly esteem for my father, but Fura–" Serana let out a small shiver. "Let's just say she desires my father. You particularly need to be careful of her. I could only imagine she is envious of you."

"Well, it seems I've made a vast amount of enemies here already..." Arela couldn't hide the insecure doubt in her voice.

"Don't worry it's normal, everyone has enemies here, but as long as you have strong friends you should be fine. It is Mephala's heaven here; secrets and evil plots are abundant in this castle." Serana gave her a grim smile.

"Well, it's good to know I have someone I can trust not to stab me in the back."

"You can trust me, I stay out of the petty squabbles and political schemes around this castle. They will only end up getting you killed." Serana grinned.

"That's exactly what Garan told me. He has been one of the biggest helps since I turned. Sadly, I'm not politically savvy, so he has been protecting me from the bombardment of offers to betray your father."

Serana sighed, "Orthjolf and Vingalmo are idiots to think they stand a chance against my father. They have been trying to overthrow him since the moment they became his advisers a few thousand years ago. But I'm pretty such that's the reason my mother decided to turn them. My mother was smart she knew those two were going to make my father's life hell." Serana smirked, but her smirk faded away and was replaced with a sad expression. "I miss my mother, only the divines know where she is now."

"It kind of seems like your parents didn't get along." Arela said quietly.

"No, they never really did and it only got worse since we became vampires. They both are power hungry and driven, just different motives."

Arela couldn't even imagine how Serana felt about her quarreling and dysfunctional family. Particularly knowing her mother was in hiding from them. It almost made Arela happy she never knew who her parents were as a child.

"Do you want to go feast before many of the other members decide too?" Arela had been ignoring the burning in her throat for hours.

But now she thought it appropriate to ask Serana if she wanted to feast with her. It would be nice to have some familiar company. Truly, Arela was scared that she would get stuck sitting next to a stranger, and she was terrified of facing her biggest fear. Blood.

"Yes, let's get there before we are forced to sit next to someone like Feran Sadri, he tends to brag the whole meal about burning entire villages full of children. Talk like that usually kills my appetite." Serana grinned. Arela couldn't help but love Serana's witty and morbid sense of humor. That was all Arela needed to survive in a place like this.

They slowly made there way to the dining hall, and to their dismay they noticed other members had decided to eat early as well.

Arela clung to Serana tightly because she didn't recognize anyone but Stalf and Fura, and Arela wasn't about to greet them. Serana scanned for a seat before leading her to one next to a Nord woman with golden hair and bright red robes.

"Lady Serana it's good to see you again," the woman in the red robes remarked.

"It's good to see you again too Hestla, how have you been since I left?"

"Great, I work the forge now." Hestla's gaze lingered on Arela though.

"So you are our new member; I was here when you were turned. I thought you weren't going to make it. But it is good to see I was wrong."

Hestla gave Arela a small smile, "What is your name again?"

"Arela." She stated proudly, not want to seem weak by any means.

Hestla smiled and turned back to her meal without another word.

"That went better than I thought it would." Serana whispered to her. "Here have a drink you must be thirsty."

Serana carefully handed Arela a cup of blood.

Normally, Arela would have recoiled just at the smell alone. But Arela found herself staring into the cup with curiosity, as the coppery smell of blood wafted up to her nose.

The scent of blood caused Arela's throat to throb and ache like arcane fire, blazing its way into her brain.

"Drink it; it will quench your thirst." Serana insisted.

Arela cautiously took a small sip, and the burning almost ceased as the red crimson blood spilled down her throat, sliding down to cool the burning.

"I wasn't expecting it to taste like a mix of honey and wine." Arela exclaimed in shock. How could blood taste so sweet? Especially when it inflicted so much sickness on her?

Serana gave Arela a low chuckle. "Well, all vampires love the taste of blood; it's a part of changing over."

But Arela couldn't focus as goose bumps shot up around her body; she shakes the feeling of being watched.

Arela's eyes spotted vampires on the other side of the room, Stalf and his companion were shooting her looks that were so fiery Arela was surprised she hadn't just burst into flames.

She couldn't understand where their spontaneous hostility came from.

Arela hadn't talk to Stalf since she had been turned; she hoped he hadn't taken her desperate insults to heart. Though Arela recognized him, she had no clue who the lady standing next to him was.

Arela leaned over and asked Serana, "Do you know who the girl standing next to Stalf is?"

"Yeah, that's Salonia; watch out for her she is thought to be having a 'relationship' with Vingalmo, so I've heard from Garan. Vingalmo tends to tie down his follows with rewards... or he entices them in other ways. He isn't too different from my father; they try and reward their favorites. Anyways she and Stalf are very close friends."

"Then why do they keep giving me such murderous looks?" Arela's voice sounded weak for reasons unknown to even her.

"It's just because you're probably ranked higher than them already, just because you're the only mortal that has survived being turned by my father."

Arela coughed lightly before saying, "It seems your father has made me a good amount of enemies."

Serana chuckled, "He tends to do that, but don't worry." Serana worry smiled.

For the first time since arriving here Arela felt the tension and stress of trying to fit in fading away... as long as Serana's here Arela thought she will always have a friend. But the carefree atmosphere didn't last long...  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had sat there for what seemed like five minutes, but in truth hours had passed. They had been chatting and exchanging stories.

Serana's stories about her childhood were amusing.

She told Arela the about great places she could explore in the castle, like the old ship yard on the west side of the castle where the undercroft was.

The undercroft was the only way to the courtyard now; Serana also had mentioned if she was looking for a thrill that the ruined spire was a formidable climbing challenge.

But time had slipped away from them because before long new members were flooding into the dining hall.

A Dunmer man gave Arela a small nod and took a seat next to her. He had jet black hair that was slicked backed, and a very well kept mustache.

But the way Serana stiffened at his approach made Arela shift uncomfortably.

"Who is he?" Arela whispered in a voice almost unaudited.

"That's Feran Sadri, I'm sorry but he is repulsive, maybe we should leave?" Serana said with a hint of anger in her remark.

"Don't worry we can leave in a minute, but finish your story about how beautiful the courtyard was." It was funny how she was trying to calm Serana. Arela was the one who didn't know anyone here.

Before long Feran was talking with Orthjolf about a mission he went on recently, and Arela couldn't help but be sucked into his adventure.

"Oh, my reconnaissance mission went well, spying on Fort Dawnguard was... entertaining. It seems we are not the only vampires in a war with them. But the other groups were too weak to actually do significant damage to them, it was a disappointment. I was hoping to see more of those Dawnguard scum die." He said maliciously, but the comment only put Arela on edge...

"I was hoping to take that mission, but our Lord needed me for some sort of meeting that Vingalmo wasn't kind enough to attend." Orthjolf scoffed with pride hidden in his words.

Feran pretended that he missed the comment completely and continued on his rant about his mission.

"Yes, you remember that mortal that was banished from the court a few days ago? I saw him; he was making his way back to Fort Dawnguard. I wished I could have ripped his throat out, after offending Lord Harkon like that, he deserves to die. I was going to kill him but other members of the Dawnguard had noticed his arrival and it would have compromised the mission and I doubt I would have made it out alive. So I pick some ingredients for alchemy instead."

Feran couldn't keep a smile off his face. Arela's body was froze like a statue. How dare he talk about her brother that way. It was the only thought that was running through Arela's mind.

Serana had picked up on her state of distress. Serana's hand snaked over to Arela's and she grasped it with a tender reassurance.

Serana's hand was icy but it made Arela's skin tingle.

Arela had heard enough, she stood up and let go of Serana's hand. She wasn't going to let Feran's comment slide. Pushing back her chair, which made a loud scraping noise on the floor, she stood up.

Feran, for the fist time, acknowledged her existence since sitting down.

Their eyes locked, and he detected Arela's furious expression.

"That's my brother you were talking about killing!" Her roar shook the ground slightly, making the chandelier sway and causing dust to come down showering over the tables. Every member had stopped what they were doing and was watching the events of the evening unfold in front of them.

Feran didn't seem intimidated, "Oh well, how unfortunate for you, new blood, you seem to be under the false pretenses that I care about your opinion." His comment only enraged her far beyond what Arela should have allowed.

In a flash she grabbed him by the neck and pushed him toward the middle of the court. "Let's settle this with a good old fight. No weapons or magic."

Feran laughed, "Do you really believe that we are in some tavern, I'm not brawling with you, and if you want a fight it will be to the death." His voice had shifted from mocking to a low growl.

Serana stepped in front of Arela. "Don't do this Arela you will regret this, my father won't approve of unauthorized killings."

"I'm not trying to be rude Serana, but I have to protect my brother's reputation, he would want this." Arela exclaimed with overwhelming strength in her voice. "So please, step aside."

Reluctantly, Serana withdrew herself from the fighting ground, but she gave Arela a denouncing look.

Without warning, Feran threw himself at Arela, and she couldn't react quickly enough. She was slammed on the ground straight on her back.

Arela felt the air being forced from her lungs as her back connected with the floor, it wasn't long before her head was smashed into the tile.

All Arela saw was spindles of light across her vision. His foot was pressing on Arela's stomach trapping her against the floor. Now there was no hope of an escape.

Feran was standing over Arela again with an ebony dagger in his hand, "They don't make vampires like they use to."

His laugh was harsh and she realized he was going to kill her. He rolled the dagger in his hands. Arela had no choice she was going to have to resort to her last line of defense. She took in a large gulp of breath and let the words of power free.

"FUS... RO!"

Arela's thu'um split the silence with a sound that resembled a clap of thunder. The ground shook violently and the air seemed to be in turmoil as fragments from the stone ceiling showered the court floor.

Feran was launched across the whole dining hall. He hit the planter pots underneath the stairs smashing it to pieces as he landed on it.

Dirt flew everywhere, and planter pot pieces showered across the floor. Many members of the court threw themselves on the floor in fear that her Shout would kill them.

Feran was not died because she hadn't intended to use the full strength of her Voice. If she had used the last word he would surely be dead, but he was struggling to untangle himself from the dirt, nightshades and shards of terracotta that were covering his body.

"What in the name of Molag Bal was that noise!?"

Arela turned around to see Lord Harkon standing on the balcony above the court. But his eyes were locked on her with a wrathful expression and Arela came to the realization that she was in more trouble than she could possibly imagine...


	6. The Punishment of a Lifetime?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Serana/F!Dovahkiin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, now the storyline is really going to start moving. I wanted to get this chapter out sooner, but life just got a little complicated near the end of the week. Still, I got this chapter out in time, so here we go.

Arela stood in the chambers of Lord Harkon, waiting nervously for his command. Her fingers were clenched to her palms in anticipation.

Although she felt anxious, the room was comforting and welcoming; the fire in his chamber remained lit through all hours of the day, allowing the light to dance upon the walls.

However, the welcome tone of the room could not bring attention away from the décor, a cage sunk into the floor, with the stench of rot lacing the iron bars and tools of a malicious nature sat nearby on a dark cherry wooden bench, freshly cleaned.

Arela swallowed her breath looking at the shiny, freshly cleaned tools. They had done services she couldn't even possibly begin to understand or want to imagine.

Arela's attention was brought back to Harkon who paced frantically by the fireplace, casting a large shadow across the room like a haunting ghost.

Arela felt the hairs stand on end when Feran looked her way from a chair. His eyes were cold and daunting, and with his face darkened from the crusty dirt of the nightshade planter he was slammed into only previously.

She could feel rage radiating off him in a heavy aura. She could only imagine the thoughts he was processing and the sort of danger she would be in if they were alone.

But her observations were broken by Harkon who had stopped his frantic pacing and turned to Feran.

"Now, remind me, what exactly happened?" His face was to the floor with his eyes skewed shut, long pale fingers rubbed at his temple in circular motions, cooling the flames that probably raged beneath them.

"She shouted at me in the dragon's tongue!" Feran explained, "I was thrown across the room! I could have died!" His yellow eyes burned into Arela's with a hateful passion.

But Harkon ignored Feran's complaint; Arela saw his eyebrow cock up in curiosity as he turned his glowing yellow eyes to her.

"So, you can Shout like the ancient Nord heroes? I would doubt your ability, if I hadn't heard the thunderous roar from here." He exclaimed in fascination. "You failed to mention your power with the Voice before." He said with a dark tone.

"Well... I didn't think it was relevant at the time. But yes, I can Shout, I'm Dragonborn." Arela muttered.

"Dragonborn... interesting, your body holds the soul of a dragon? I have trouble believing such a thing." Harkon's voice expressed his doubt.

"You doubt me? I have absorbed the souls of dragons before." Arela said with flowing strength in her voice.

Harkon scratched his beard while immersed in thought, but his eyes, the very eyes that glowed like the moon never left Arela.

"Feran, leave us. I must have a private discussion with our newest member." Harkon said, making sure his voice left no room for argument.

Feran's eyes flew wide in outrage. "So she is not to be punished?" He looked at her in horror and she knew he would remember this and haunt her relentlessly for it.

"Did I say she wasn't? No, of course she is, but that doesn't involve you Feran, so leave us." Harkon stated, with a harsh tone that only expressed his irritation at Feran's disobedience.

Feran got up and slammed the door behind him, which only exemplified his rage.

Anxious, Arela looked at the door he left in, wondering what forces would be applied once he left. No matter the punishment Harkon gave her, Feran would certainly intensify it.

Arela began to panic desperately. Those freshly cleaned tools and rags – were they to wipe her blood off the floor? Were she to be killed now? Would Harkon kill her slowly and painfully? He would not perform an execution publicly to his court, surely? She was at least pleased to be away from humiliation when she died, although the chance of rescue was slimmer.

Harkon turned his back on her and was staring into the fireplace. He was unnaturally quiet which only made Arela's stomach do flips in her abdomen.

Finally, Harkon shattered the thick silence. "Did you wish to keep your strength with the Thu'um a secret from me?" He hadn't taken his iridescent eyes off the flickering flames, and that made her feel more and more nervous by the moment.

Arela didn't know how to explain how she felt about her dovahsos – dragon blood. To her it was more of a curse than anything else. Being pulled apart from the norm was something thieves despised, because their goal has always been to blend in with the crowd.

Honestly, Arela had only discovered it by accident, and she didn't want to indulge Harkon with the details.

But she understood he expected an answer and Arela could tell he was becoming impatient, as he so often did. She ultimately decided that she was going to rationalize and give him a decent response.

"Well, I hate being different. I wanted a fresh start here, but that didn't seem to work out so well."

Harkon turned to look at her, his eyes were searching her face, attempting to break past her empty expression but while he stared and stared, she couldn't help but look anywhere else. His eyes were haunting, beautiful and dangerous, glowing like the moon at midnight.

He was unlike everyone else. He was silent and reserved, yet he contained some dark hidden drive to conquer. It was unlike her own primal desire to dominate, that was brought on by the dragon blood. Harkon's though was unknown to her.

Time must have pasted because as he stared, he must have realized how his plot to break her defenses was pointless. Arela felt relieved almost. Only one man had managed to read her thoughts through her eyes and that man was Mercer Frey. She smiled thinking how he was currently resided beneath the ice of a lake and being chewed on by Slaughterfish.

Harkon finally snapped Arela back to reality with his critical tone. "Your Voice is power and power is something I can use." He said; giving her the faintest hint of a smirk. "You will definitely be an advantage to have on this court" It was as if he was thinking out loud. So for her own safety Arela let him continue on his rant.

"You become more of an intrigue to me with every passing second. You support me in this court and I will make sure you are rewarded, once you have proven yourself. I have a task for you to complete."

Arela's expression was puzzled to say the least. "I thought you were going to punish me?"

"I considered it, but the task I give you shall provide to be an adequate punishment." He said quietly but his voice was still quite powerful. "Although, I must ask, why did you attempt to kill a member of my court?"

"He was talking disrespectfully about my brother; I wasn't going to tolerate it. We may have been thieves, but that doesn't mean we don't deserve respect." Arela sharply stated.

Her voice was laced with a powerful quake, trembling at the ground around her, the tall vampire looked around him with an attempt of acceptance but his unease was apparent on his face.

"So you were a thief. I've never allowed a rogue in my court before." Harkon said with disdain in his voice.

"So what if I was a thief; we are strong, loyal and capable. Most of us are clever and are able to fight better than the Companions themselves." Arela exclaimed proudly, her irritation plain.

Who was he to talk of thieves? His court was a power struggle; the vampires in the dining hall ready and capable to kill for Harkon's position. It was plain to see, and deep down, all the courts love for Harkon was superficial. She believed he almost enjoyed all the conflict. Having the rabble of immortals fight for his throne somehow stroked his ego.

Serana had partly convinced Arela that Harkon was paranoid about losing his position on the court. Arela didn't fully agree, she saw his paranoia, but it was shrouded by his cocky attitude.

"Oh, I don't doubt your skill. You have displayed the power that your voice has to everyone in the court, and now you have instilled fear in them for me." Harkon flashed a small icy smile at Arela.

"Then what would you have of me?" Arela asked nervously.

"You are my blood kin, I trust you much more than I trust any member of this court." Harkon said coolly. "But that trust is not to be mistaken for favor. You should do well to remember."

"May I go now?" Arela asked quietly.

"Go and speak to Garan Marethi tell him 'it is time,' he will know what I mean." Harkon's remark left no room for negotiation, but the comment brought a light smirk to his face.

Arela bowed, knowing that feeding his ego was the fastest ticket out of their conversation. "Yes my Lord, as you wish."

She then spun around and she left Harkon's room.

Relief washed over Arela as she quietly closed the door; she was still in one piece and that was enough to be thankful for. She found it difficult to predict Harkon from what she had seen of him. The one thing Arela could tell was what a fickle leader of the court he was.

His desires were like a breeze in Windhelm, always strong but never sure where they would lead you.

Arela thought it best to just stay out of his way and maybe he would leave her alone, but somehow she doubted that.

Arela couldn't help but feel exhausted, having not slept a wink in the last three days was taking a toll on her ability to focus. The blood of the vampire gave her a surprising amount of energy, but she could feel sleep clouding her thoughts. So she began her trek to where the barracks were.

To Arela's shock she could hear Serana's voice close by.

She was standing close to her father's room talking to Garan near the balcony. They were muttering and Arela was able to pick up a small amount of the conversation.

They hadn't seen or heard her so far, so Arela decided to put her eavesdropping skills to the test. She shoved herself against the wall to pick up the details.

"–but Garan, my father is very unreasonable. He hasn't changed in the last few thousand years. He is still just as obsessed with the prophecy as he was when Mother and I left."

Garan sighed. "Lord Harkon is trying his best Lady Serana, but having to deal with this court is enough problems to last a lifetime."

"Yes, but he has never cared for Mother and me much to start out with." Serana's voice sounded beaten, like she had just lost the most difficult battle in history. She carried the weight of a thousand years of burdens and added family tension.

Arela could only image Garan getting distraught at such a response, so she decided to step in, as she slid from behind the wall.

"Hey, I'm still alive."

Serana smiled, "It's good to see you again. I was worried that you wouldn't come out of that in one piece. But it seemed you are my father's new favorite."

"Yes, it would seem that way." Garan stated calmly. "But staying in his favor is hard to maintain."

"Garan, Harkon told me to give you a message."

"Lord Harkon. Remember your place. Now what is our Lords wish?" Garan seemed bothered by the fact Arela was relaying a message.

"He simply told me 'It is time.'"

Garan looked appalled, "Well, well, he wants the chalice then. Have you heard of the Blood Stone Chalice?"

"No. I've never heard of it?"

"It is a rather well-kept secret. The chalice had been in Lord Harkon's possession for quite some time now. It is, when used properly, able to increase the potency of our powers. This is good; it means grander things are afoot. Follow me." Garan continued talking as he lead Arela and Serana down the hall.

"Lord Harkon never cared to use the Chalice, relying on his more than adequate powers until now. This is an intriguing change." He exclaimed as he lead Arela and Serana down the stairs to the court floor.

"I don't really want to stir the pot." Arela said quietly.

"Oh, but your arrival already has." Garan said sullenly.

Arela was about to open her mouth in response, but thought better of it. Garan would only come back in an unrelenting fury.

They approached the court floor, Arela realized it was empty except for Orthjolf and she assumed the tall high elf was Vingalmo.

It was usual norm to see them arguing, but their banter was broken by Garan, Serana and Arela. Their entrance only seemed to intrigue the two court members.

Garan cleared his throat and simple stated, "Excuse us. I need to fetch the Blood Stone Chalice."

Vingalmo was perplexed by such an action though, Arela couldn't understand why.

"Why?" Vingalmo barked.

"What are you up to, Garan?" Orthjolf inquired in a slightly dark tone. "Does this have something to do with the new blood?"

Orthjolf's cynical gaze rested on Arela.

"Lord Harkon's orders, Orthjolf, be calm." Garan's voice became stern as he proclaimed it, Arela could tell that he was weary of their bickering. "Our friend here has been ordered to fill the Chalice."

"Really?" The look on Vingalmo's face was enough to chill anyone's blood. Arela hadn't met him yet, but she had heard whispers about him.

He was an opportunist, and she knew Vingalmo wasn't going to pass up taking this Chalice for himself.

"Indeed. She's off to Red Water Den, tomorrow." Arela couldn't help but shoot Garan a look like he was a skeever brain.

He just told these two scheming skeevers where she was heading. That couldn't help her in any way.

"Well, the best of luck to you." Orthjolf winked at her. Arela looked at the floor then, as she felt her cheeks redden from his compliment.

Garan lead Arela and Serana past them, but Arela didn't miss Orthjolf flashing his fangs at her. Serana had seen it too and she leaned in. "Arela watch out for Orthjolf, I think he might, well fancy you."

"Yeah, I don't trust him." Arela muttered before Garan cut off her words.

"Orthjolf and Vingalmo are Harkon's primary advisers. I'm sure they're quite surprised to learn that you're taking the Chalice." Garan said, as they reached a small room. In the middle of it was a pedestal where a large silver intricately designed cup sat. "And here we are." Garan lifted the Chalice so Arela could better look at it.

"Now, this Chalice needs to be filled directly from the blood spring that is the source of Red Water Den. But that's not enough... Once that's done, the blood of a powerful vampire needs to be added to it." Garan smiled and she couldn't help but be nervous at what Garan was going to say next.

"Keep in mind that Red Water Den has fallen into... well; let's just say that less reputable members of society now dwell there. It's your choice whether to attempt to deal with them or force your way through."

"So what bandits, thieves or cut throats?" Serana asked.

"Skooma dealers." Garan frowned.

Serana displayed interest in her voice, "So can I go on this little adventure?"

"I'm not sure." Garan looked unsettled. "Arela I must warn you. I have seen that you will not be the only one from this castle at Red Water Den. If you understand what I'm talking about."

"Yes, I understand, you told them where I was going." Arela scowled

"Well I had to, Harkon would want me to make it difficult for you or it wouldn't be a test."

"So, this test is to amuse him? To keep him guessing who will come back?" Arela asked coldly.

"Yes, it seems that way, but our Lord wants to assess you abilities. You may leave tomorrow night. But hurry back. You don't want to keep Lord Harkon waiting."

Arela couldn't help but smirk; she was only too ready to leave this place.


	7. A Thief in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Slow Burn Serana/F!Dovahkiin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I love all the support I'm getting from you followers and reviewers! So thanks, but enough of me, time to get this chapter started and I loved writing this chapter, so I hope you guys like it too! So here we go.

The night was refreshing against Arela's skin, as the breeze brushed between her exposed fingers, and the air had a soft chill that ran up her spine and hid between her shoulder blades leaving her with a shiver.

Arela had left Castle Volkihar an hour ago to get the Blood Stone Chalice, but the need for supplies has caused Arela to side track to Solitude.

It felt unnatural to walk amongst people again now that she was a vampire. Arela's need to retreat to her house Proudspire eclipsed her desire for blood; though her throat felt as if needles were being driven into her esophagus.

Solitude was thought to be the most beautiful city in Skyrim; with its intricate brick work on the buildings and the fancy spires that towered in the sky, with the sallow colored shingles lined on the roofs like dragon scales.

The blue-gray stone gave the city a dark complexion, and an old powerful feel. But every building was accented with vegetation from ferns to moss and even small mountain flowers of every color she could think of; this flowers were bright and wonderful with her enhanced vision.

The city walls around were high, with moss curtaining down the walls highlighting the thick gray stones. The walls look like they could touch the shadowy night sky, they were too tall, so tall they seemed to mix with the back splash of mountains in which the city had been tucked into.

Arela got frustrated with Solitude; there was no escaping the city, the main exits were always covered with outrageous amounts of guards. It was only too often to hear about guards killing fellow thieves; it always made Arela feel fortunate to be blessed by Nocturnal. Her mistress would never be as cruel to allow her to be caught in this city. She hoped.

She weaved between merchants, drunks and city folks, trying not to knock any of them over, because causing a disturbance was the last thing Arela desired.

She quickly made her way down the gravelly cobblestone path; passing the hanging lanterns that lined the streets. The lantern light irritated her pale skinned hands, which was the only skin exposed in Arela's armor.

She steadied her pace once her house was in view.

Arela stared at Proudspire Manor; the elegant look of the house was something that Arela would never get use to.

Many in the Guild said Arela had spent the Eyes of the Falmer well. But the house never felt like a home to her, so she had decided to make Proudspire a Guild safe house in Solitude.

The house itself contradicted her style, she had lived in Riften her whole life where everything was simple and rustic. Proudspire was nothing but expensive, cold and hollow empty space.

Though now she was pleased at the houses convenient location to Castle Volkihar, so she didn't have to travel all the way to Riften to get supplies.

When Arela had attempted to buy potions, Feran had dumped every bottle of value on the floor just to spite her. So searching through her house in Solitude had seemed like a great bet.

Arela ascended the steps to the front door; the decorative metal work on the front door made the house seem more inviting than it actually was.

Arela pushed the doors open and entered the stuffy sitting room; the room had only enough space for a basic chair and table. A juniper tree had fanned its branches wildly from the planter pot. It was wild and untamed from lack of being trimmed.

The limestone colored bricks left the room feeling very primitive and yet chalky. It lacked a natural feeling of soft and relaxing; making Arela feeling like she was trapped in a stone box.

This was where her housecarl, Jordis, had spent most of her time, and currently she was sitting in the room reading a book.

Instantly Jordis reacted to the sound of an intruder; her hand shoot for the steel sword attached to her belt. But the tensioned relaxed when Jordis had finally recognized Arela in her Nightingale armor.

"Oh, sorry my Thane. You never said that you were returning to Solitude anytime soon." Jordis stated quietly, her voice leery, almost unsure of Arela's intentions. Arela's throat tightened in anxiousness at the unease of her housecarl.

Jordis watched her cautiously as Arela turned her back to the housecarl, placing her traveling pack onto a nearby table ready to be refilled.

"Ah, yes I have returned to pick up some supplies. You know some potions, and arrows. Has anything happened in Solitude lately? I have always felt like time moved so slowly in this city. It lacks excitement." Arela stated plainly, hoping her voice expressed enough calmness to put Jordis at ease.

Arela had often avoided Solitude, plainly on behalf of the Empire. She was trying to stay politically neutral, but Tullius and Ulfric were still searching for the 'Dragonborn', or on the other hand, Arela. But far as they were concerned the Dragonborn was a male Imperial.

Keeping her identity discreet from them was one of her top priorities. Often Arela would ask members of the Guild to spread fake rumors to citizens about the whereabouts of a Dragonborn, which only covered Arela's tracks.

Focused back on the task at hand, Arela walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through her cupboards. She viciously searched for health and stamina potions.

She had made plenty when she had first bought the house, but Guild members tend to use things and not replace them.

Jordis' words suspended Arela's thoughts and search.

"Well... my Thane, a man from the Guild brought a letter here today. It's on the kitchen table." Jordis pointed to a bland looking envelop on the large oak table.

Arela paused her search for potions, and languidly made her way over to the table. She quickly picked up the letter and examined it thoroughly.

The handwriting on the outside of the envelop was nothing more than a messy scrawl of letters that seemed to form the name 'Arela.'

Arela smiled; she only knew too well who had wrote the letter. Cynric Endell...

Arela wanted to open the letter.

But it took all her willpower to stop her from ripping open the letter and ravenously reading every word and then reading it several times as if his words were not enough. Because his words were never enough for Arela.

His words were worth more than an amount of septims, or any treasure she had collected over the years.

His words made her confident, confident that she was strong and could do anything; that no challenge was too great.

If Cynric had not been there when Mercer had betrayed the Guild; Arela was sure she would have lost the will to fight.

But his friendship had rekindled her belief in trust and loyalty, there was no one in the Guild that knew her so well.

They had always competed to see who was the better archer; it usually ended with Cynric mumbling angrily while forking over some money to a lost bet.

Cynric was the only person that could give Arela a run for her money in lock picking. He had once been a jailbreaker, so picking locks quickly had been his specialty, but they had always broke even.

Arela thought back to them running through Riften, while being chased by the infuriated city guard. Climbing walls and slipping down alleyways had always been their safe getaway.

The nights they had spent in the Flagon, telling stories and drinking every septim rang in Arela's mind. They would drink until their money was depleted or until Vekel kicked their drunken bodied out of the Flagon.

To say they were in love was too extreme; but to say they were friends was an understatement. Arela couldn't describe their relationship, it was relaxed yet competitive, fun yet serious, warming yet slightly cold. Every way Arela thought of their affections it turned into a contradiction.

Just the thought of him made her heart fluttered like a birds beating wings, irregular and erratic.

Just looking at the letter she was reminded of all her memories with him.

But all of those recollections had been from before her appointed as Guild Master. When the Guild had still symbolized freedom and regalement.

The moment Arela had been delegated to Guild Master everything had changed... The Guild had shifted to a world of business: finding marks, running financials, communicating with contacts, inflicting fear and keeping thieves in line.

The luster the Guild had once received from Arela was desecrated in months, by the hovering expectations of the Guild's need for organization.

Cynric and Arela had grown apart, but he had been distraught upon discovering Arela departing from the Guild to hunt vampires with her brother Enden.

They had become tangled in a brutal fight.

Arela had said a few things she regretted deeply, and that made her nervous about the contents of the letter.

Arela knew if she read his letter now she would be reduced to nothing but sorrowful tears. She had desperately missed him; he had been Arela's steady rock in an ocean of trouble, and overwhelming responsibility.

Arela stood frozen by the kitchen table, just examining the poorly assembled letter.

There was a small creaking noise upstairs, the sound shocked Arela out of her trance, and she reached for the small dagger in her boot.

Jordis' voice broke the tense silence. "A thief from the Guild is still here. He said that he wanted to rest before he departed the city and headed back to Riften. He insisted he knew you well, so I allowed him to stay upstairs in the spare bedroom."

Jordis looked at Arela with an uneasy expression.

Arela silently cursed the housecarl for innocently following her wishes. Arela had told Jordis when she moved here that thieves would be allowed to bunk here, as long as they said they were from the Guild.

"Thank you for telling me." Arela said weakly.

She tried to force herself to move toward the winding steps upstairs. But she couldn't, it was as if an invisible wire was pulling her away.

Arela contemplating leaving; she didn't need the potions, what she had need was just a little familiarity. She had missed civilization and order, as well as the comfort of privacy.

And now she had wrapped a noose around her neck, one of the Guild members was going to find out the truth. That Arela was nothing more than a... vampire.

Arela cautiously made her way up the stairs, they seemed to be the longest flight of steps in Arela's life as she dragged her body up.

Finally she had reached the landing, and Arela stared straight into her room. And there was no denying it; there sat a figure in the far corner of her room.

He had propped his leg up on the table, and was reclining in a small chair right next to her four poster bed, as if waiting for her to return.

He was definitely from the Guild; the brown thick leather cuirass and leggings that had molded to his body. His boots were caked in mud from his journey here; he must have passed through the marshes of Hjaalmarch.

Arela struggled to make out who it was, his brown hood casted a heavy shadow on his face. But Arela suspected it was Cynric.

He seemed to be napping in the chair; but he shifted at the sound of Arela's approach.

His head lifted and his face was bathed in light exposing his rough complexion and finally showing Arela who it was, Cynric Endell.

He had the features of the average Breton; the slightly narrower face from the average human and the longer nose.

On normal days he wore such a serious expression, but his soft blue eyes burned with a hidden charm. He would never admit it but she could tell he was happy to see her.

He had light stubble on his face from lack of shaving, and his short light brown hair laid lazily on his forehead.

But the one thing that Arela caught herself staring at all the time was the jagged scars on his left cheek. She had always wondered how he got them. She could hardly fathom who would want to inflict such a wound on the quiet and reserved Cynric Endell.

Cynric gradually rose from his seat and his mouth contorted into a wryly smirk.

"Long time no see Arela."


	8. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Serana/F!Dovahkiin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this chapter was a bit later than usual. This chapter was tricky for me; I redid and restarted this so many times I lost count. So sorry about that. And also all you Serana fans hold in there, she is coming back soon in a blinding fury! :)

For the first time Arela was shocked into silence. She hadn't expected anyone to be waiting for her, especially not in her bedroom, and of all people it was Cynric, the only thief she had ever developed feelings for.

His sky blue eyes glided over Arela, washing over her body and admiring her in the Nightingale armour. He had always told Arela the armour was only too complementing for her figure. Comments like that had always made her blush fiercely, and Arela had never let other thieves discourage her, but Cynric and the vampires at Castle Volkihar were another matter.

Arela wasn't sure what his intentions were, there was no reason why Cynric should have been in Solitude. Most thieves in the Guild would have just headed back to Riften already, not wishing to speak to the Guild Master. Mercer's style of leadership had still scared many members into avoiding her.

"What are you doing here?" Arela asked she had been so spun in her own thoughts and forget that Cynric had actually spoken to her.

"I was just passing through Solitude, and thought I might check to see if you were home." Cynric shrugged, but Arela could see he was slightly flustered.

"Does that explain why you need to sleep in my room? I have a spare bedroom." Arela stifled a smile; she was going to make this slightly miserable for him.

"Eh... I was looking at the lovely decor, and then sat down to admire it and fell asleep..." Cynric was shifting his weight back and forth; he was acting like a skittish fool and it was amusing to Arela.

"Oh that's bull. Tell me the truth Cynric." Arela stated bluntly, crossing her armored arms.

He focused on his hands for a second, refusing to look at Arela. She was enjoying watching him submit to her questions. He was always too composed to expose his real feelings, so he averted eye contact.

Finally his steely blue eyes became fixated on Arela's; she could see bravery glow in his eyes.

"Well, you haven't shown your face around the Guild in months, and I wanted to apologize for the things I said before you left to join the Dawnguard."

Arela was amazed at his declaration; she never thought that Cynric was even a person to apologize. He often said crude things, but he never confessed to any wrongdoings; this definitely felt like a break through to Arela.

"Are you apologizing?" Arela failed to mask the shock in her voice.

"Well you can refer it as that, but I prefer to call it; 'Enforcing mutual harmony'." He shot back, giving Arela a dry smirk. It was odd to see his smile again; she was too use to seeing a scowl on his face.

A quiet chuckle escaped from Arela's mouth, "That is the Cynric I remember."

"Now, what are you doing here, back in Solitude Arela? You've been avoiding the Guild for months now like we're some disease. Are you afraid to get caught up in the Guild again?" He paused; she could see he was mulling his next few words over in his head.

"Because we miss you, Brynjolf is doing a great job, but there is nothing like having the _real_ Guild Master around." Cynric said with melancholy laced in his words.

Arela felt like someone had punched the wind right out of her; there was nothing left Arela could say. But Cynric continued on his persuasive rant.

"Nothing has been the same since you left... Thrynn is not quite as entertaining as you were. Nurin isn't great archery competition, he always wins, and at least you and I were more evenly matched."

Arela felt as if her brain was paralyzed, his statement was so full of emotion and nostalgia it caused Arela to be submerged in guilt; she wasn't there for him. Was his words just meant in a friendly gesture? Slowly Arela fumbled through words, until she was able to pull out enough to make a sentence.

"I can't go back. Not yet. I have some things to complete... But I will go back, I just don't know when..." Arela struggled to say.

Cynric's grin was replaced with a harsh scowl; Arela flinched at the cursing look.

"Why not come back now? Arela I can't stand another day in the Guild without you..." Cynric raised his voice an octave, and his face still wielded a rigid expression.

Her thoughts were slowed, even frozen. Statues bearing confused expressions in her mind, unable to comprehend the strange world they have come to. Was Cynric confessing feelings for her, possibly love for her? It seemed only too surreal.

She couldn't be sure his face was just too passive, maybe slightly cold. Arela couldn't get a good reading off him, so Arela decided to try and delve into some possibilities until she was able to figure it out.

"Having trouble making friends?" Arela mocked.

"I'm not having trouble talking to people." He released another scowl; he knew that Arela was making fun of his very reclusive behavior. "I just preferred the friend I had before. You know the stubborn red head..."

"You must be talking about Brynjolf, because my hair isn't quite red." Arela left a hint of smugness in her voice.

"Do you really have to get technical? Ok, so your hair is gingery, but you're still stubborn." Cynric's mouth twisted into a smirk and crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest.

Arela tried her best to peel her eyes off Cynric, but she couldn't. He was... attractive: well-built muscles, brown hair, the light scruffy beard, and the pale blue eyes. There wasn't a single trait about his that made her reconsider her desire for him.

There was a very still silence for a few seconds, but Arela used the time to process what had been said.

Had Cynric really missed her that much or was he over exaggerating? Arela had missed him too, but she had assumed that he never wanted to see her again, with the sore feelings that had been left behind. Their fight had escalated into volleying insults back and forth.

Arela had refused to even say farewell to him when she left for Fort Dawnguard. She hated to admit but his words had cut her deep, deeper than she thought possible, so deep that his words had consumed her, and nagged in her subconscious mind still. He had called her fearful; fearful of responsibility, fearful of leadership, and most of all fearful of being a failure to the Guild. Arela was terrified of turning just like Mercer: power-hungry, narcissistic, manipulative and overconfident. Having such power scared her, but she was too proud to admit it.

Another problem that had been agonizing in Arela's mind was the truth about her condition... he didn't know she was a vampire. Cynric had always been honest with Arela at all times; it was their unwritten rule, and until this moment Arela had always thought she would return his faith in her character. But how could she now? There was no way he could handle the shock.

But Arela's conscience won over; she couldn't let Cynric down, not if she could help it.

Arela cleared her throat and tried to preserve the confidence she had left. "Cynric I have to tell you something..."

"Yeah, what is it?" Cynric was giving her mysterious grin, as his eyes were scanning her hooded face once again.

"I have to show you... a secret, but you have to promise not to tell a soul, not even anyone in the Guild, and try not to kill me... Got it?"

"Please don't tell me you're pregnant or something weird like that. Plus when have I tried to kill you Arela?" Cynric let a gravelly chuckle slip from between his perfectly dull pink lips.

With a sickening feeling building in her stomach, Arela slowly removed her Nightingale hood. Arela's hands fumbled with the hood, her fingers feeling slightly uncoordinated as Cynric watched her with his anxious pale blue eyes that shined like iced lakes.

Arela peeled back her hood and shook her head, allowing her rusty coloured hair to spill down her face like a soft waterfall.

Arela lifted her head and looked up at Cynric with her unfamiliar red melodramatic eyes.

Cynric jumped back and knocked into a chair causing him to stumble backwards and slam his body against the wall.

He gaped at Arela, as if she was recognizable, but entirely foreign.

Arela wanted to know what he was thinking, was he scared, or just surprised? But she couldn't detect an expression because his eyes were obscured in darkness; they were hidden beneath his thick brown hood.

She lowered her glowing eyes almost shamefully, not wanting him to look at her further, the air became heavier as she waited so patiently but anxiously for his response. But he just stared hard at the foreign woman before him who had resembled someone he cared for. Finally after a tense minute of silence he spoke.

"What... What happened, Arela...? You're a vampire... Did you contract vampirism...?" Cynric's tone expressed shock, as he stumbled over his words.

"I was bitten by a vampire... I didn't have any control over it..." Arela whispered her voice had lost its strength. The truth had finally exposed Arela's internal struggle for her self-respect, something she had tried to repress since she had turned. Had she done the right thing?

The question still etched in her mind, just Cynric's quiet hesitation caused Arela to inquire if she should have allowed Harkon to snap her neck, so she wouldn't have to deal with the heartache.

Arela's heart picked up speed with ever tantalizing speechless second. Was Cynric assuming she was weak? That she shouldn't have allowed herself to turn into a vampire; that she should have rather ended her life?

Cynric just stared in silence, as if time wasn't passing. Arela watched as his hand gradually slid to where he held his steel dagger.

Every muscle in her body tensed, unsure of his intentions. Would Cynric really run her through with a dagger or was he really that horrified by her? How could he even think of such a thing...?

Arela felt warm tears brimming in her eyes threatening to cascade down her pale cheeks; Arela looked down at her feet. On normal circumstances Arela wouldn't have cared what other Guild members thought, but Cynric's opinion mattered. If she couldn't have his acceptance there was no way anyone else in the Guild would understand.

Cynric's hardened facial features melted away as he saw the tears welled up in Arela's eyes as she looked away.

Without a word Cynric fluidly worked his way over to her. He took Arela's cool pale hands in his. His hands were callous, but gentle as the engulfed her smaller hands.

His skin was so warm and Arela absorbed the heat, consuming his warmth ravenously, she could feel him tremble under her cold touch.

Without reason Arela felt as if her heart was about to explode; her blood was rushing through her body without control. She felt the heat from his body reappear in her cheeks.

She had no idea why Cynric had this strong effect on her, but it made her own thoughts die and she was unable to clear him out of her mind; he was running around in her head and she was unable to shoo him away.

The silence was ringing in Arela's brain as well, driving her to speak.

"Say something..." Arela said shyly. She could feel his warmth emanating off him like rays of sun. But she just wanted to hear his voice, to let his words spill over her like warm water.

"I just wasn't expecting this... So... is this why you won't come back to the Guild?" Cynric said softly; waking from his trance.

For a few seconds his face looked so much older, as if the news itself had aged his body. Arela had never meant to stress him... all she desired now was his acceptance; nothing more mattered, just his acceptance... Arela's subconscious pleaded.

"I got assimilated into a... cult of vampires... Not really my choice either, and I don't think leaving is an option. I've been trapped at their stronghold for a while." Arela said smoothly, instantly recalling her suffered sentence there with Serana.

Cynric sat down on Arela's bed, lost in thought, but finally he found his voice.

"Well, I guess you owe me a story or explanation for all this." Cynric uttered.

Arela frowned, she didn't really want to mention all the events that had transpired, but there was no way around it. Cynric wanted the truth, so that was exactly what he was going to get. "I guess I do... so let me start from the beginning..."

* * *

Hours had passed; Arela and Cynric were still passing news, jokes and stories back and forth. It was comforting to see his slow growing acceptance of her appearance. Their friendship still seemed relaxed and as normal as ever, even though so much had changed.

Cynric had been sweet enough to tell her every major event that had happened in the Guild since Arela's departure. Arela had been disturbed to hear of Etienne's magical disappearance, as well as some members activities and gossip. But Cynric had been relentless in his questioning of Arela's activities as a vampire.

It was nice to have someone to confide in, but Cynric was definitely trying to find any hidden truths or secrets in Arela's words.

Arela had kept out the details of Castle Volkihar, just for Cynric's safety. She never wanted him to discover the castle because if he did he would be in grave danger.

Delight was beginning to resurface from its dormant stage, causing Arela to smile.

Arela was nothing but overjoyed that Cynric hadn't killed her and dumped a gallon of holy water on her corpse. Cynric's words dragged Arela back to Nirn.

"Trapped? And you didn't try and break out or run away?" Cynric said perplexed.

"It's complicated, I'm staying there because I want to protect a certain vampire I consider a friend." Arela said with a neutral tone. The only reason she was staying at Castle Volkihar was because Serana made her feel obligated to.

"You're friends with a vampire? What is the world coming to?"

"She is good, I swear! She isn't like the other vampires that are blood crazy and power hungry!" Arela said sharply.

"I'm so sorry..." Cynric's tone was warm as he squeezed her hand, causing Arela's heart to thunder like drums in her chest. Unlike most Bretons; he was surprisingly compassionate and understanding, he was almost too empathic for a jail breaker.

"Hey, I know what it means to feel judged. When I first joined up with the Guild everyone avoided me because I had come from the Reach. My parents were part of the Forsworn, so the Nord members of the Guild assumed I had been involved in the attack on Markarth. They couldn't see past my race and background, even if it was out of my control. All they wanted to see was a savage, and so I was painted that way for a few years."

"If you can believe it, Bryn, Rune and I didn't always see eye to eye. For the first two years of being in the Guild they never spoke one word to me." Cynric's tone was serious, but ironically he chuckled.

"I didn't know that...Sadly I didn't notice you much in the Guild back then. You were always so quiet." Arela gave him a sombre look.

"Yeah, don't worry Arela everyone in the Guild will eventually accept the change you've made. 'Time heals all wounds' as some say, and most of the members already know you well. So all you have to do is win their hearts again, and prove you haven't changed."

While still holding her hands, Cynric silently kissed the top of Arela's hand. His stare at her never broke, as his pale lips connected with her ghostly skin.

Arela felt her heart stop. She swore Cynric knew exactly how to make her flustered, nervous and star struck all at once. Just his voice was enough to make her feel weightless.

He could be such a gentleman when he wanted to and he was such a tease. He knew exactly how to act around women, and that was the main reason Arela never fully let her guard down around him. But now she couldn't help it, she was too vulnerable in her new form.

Cynric's articulate voice whispered to her. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Not even the Guild will know. Not until you are ready to tell them. You are planning on telling them aren't you?" He said louder.

"Yes... I just have some business to conduct at Red Water Den." Arela frowned, as she reminded herself of the trip she had to complete for Harkon. Just the thought of her real mission ruined the moment.

Cynric pushed Arela an arm's length away; his faded blue eyes filled with sorrowful rage. "You're going to a Skooma den? Why! Arela that is insane, not to mention dangerous!"

"It isn't about Skooma, rather what is hidden there."

"Arela you promised that you wouldn't get the Guild involved in the drug trade, no matter how much Tonilia tried to persuade you. All those Skooma dens are sickly and full of low lives. I don't even want to imagine you there..."

"Cynric, this has nothing to do with drugs. I promise, and if you haven't noticed I'm a vampire now. Having superhuman abilities does have its advantages." Arela said angrily, why didn't he believe her? She wasn't going to a Skooma Den for drugs.

Cynric frowned, "Ok, I'm just making sure. I just don't want you to get hurt..."

"Cynric you worry too much. I can take care of myself, always could and always have."

"Yeah, but look where taking care of yourself got you... You got bite by a vampire, and everybody in society wants to kill you now."

Arela tried to fight the scowl that was beginning to appear on her face. "So you want to kill me too?"

"No I didn't say that." Cynric said defensively.

"Well you said everybody."

"I could never kill you Arela. I love–" He cut himself off quickly, and started anew. "You're like a best friend; I could never harm you even if I wanted to."

"Sure..." Arela smiled, accidentally flashing Cynric her fangs.

Cynric cringed. "It might take a bit for me to get use to that."

"Yeah; I'm sorry about my teeth."

Cynric let her hands go from his warm grip.

"It's getting late, I should probably go." Cynric said calmly.

He slowly made his way over to the tiny window in her room. Arela watched as Cynric opened and then clambered out her window.

"What are you doing?!" Arela exclaimed watching him retreat out of her window.

"I'm leaving. The way most thieves escape." Cynric smiled.

She slowly made her way over to where he was climbed out.

He hung there for a second. Before he landed flat on the soft grass of Arela's garden. He angled his head to look up at Arela.

"Where are you going?" Arela asked.

"Back to Riften, I was supposed to be back yesterday from my thieving spree. But I just had a feeling you would be back soon..." He gave Arela a mysterious smile.

"Ah, ok. Well I'll see you again. Write to my house here, ok?" Arela said frantically, hoping he wouldn't start walking away.

"Only if you promise you will come back to the Guild soon Arela." Cynric flashed Arela a grin.

"Of course, I'll be back. I won't be parted from my home too much longer." Arela smiled. And in that moment she let herself slip, and blew a kiss from her window down toward Cynric.

Arela swore it felt like a scene from a cheesy romance novel. With the sea breeze causing her reddish hair to flutter in front of her face. The night sky painted with splashes of navy blue and indigo, and speckled with white stars. It felt so cliché but she was desperate for him to know how she felt.

It was hard to make out but Cynric gave her a glowing smile, flashing all his bright and white straight teeth.

"See you around Arela." He said before departing down the main street that ran through Solitude like a thick river.

His languid pace called Arela's gaze. She couldn't take her eyes off him; she wasn't sure when they would meet next and so she soaked in all the details of his departing figure against the city and the night sky.

It wasn't long before his dark shadow was consumed in the night, and Arela once again felt fully alone, leaning out her window.

She only wished to have him back here, to feel the warmth of his skin, and to listen to his heart beat.

Arela looked into the night sky to see lightning flashing from the west, a storm was brewing Arela could feel the static in the thick air. The storm was calling to her with the dark clouds and the rough bellowing cracks of thunder, with torrents of rain, and bright flashes of lightning. The very storm left a ball of uncertainty in her stomach; she was going to have to fight that storm on her journey back to the Rift.

Her future was certainly hanging in the balance, and the more she looked at the storm, the more she thought of her life and her unpredictable future.

Arela let out an exhausted sigh, as she headed back downstairs to pack for her journey to Red Water Den.


	9. Deceptive Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Serana/F!Dovahkiin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guy, I did something a little different for this chapter, I switched up the perspective. But I just wanted to thank you guys for the awesome reviews, reading those really gives me the motivation to keep writing! If you got time please tell me what you think about me changing the view point, because if you guys like it I'll consider writing chapters from other character's perspectives.

Nights were always cool in the Rift, as a chilling breeze swooped down from the mountains surrounding Fort Dawnguard. The wind caused the fall leaves to flutter down from the trees and skip across the dewy grass.

The sound of churning water from the glacial run off resonated in the small valley that the Fort was tucked into. The Dawnguard were surrounded by tall mountains that dominated the landscape which seemed to cut the Fort off from the world around them, except from the open sky.

The ground was bathed in weak moonlight, causing the dewy drops on the grass to shined like intricately placed diamonds.

The sky looked like a black void trying to swallow Nirn. Isran had been watching for nights as the two moons, Secunda and Masser danced around each other in their orbit. Their brilliant white illuminated the black sky and gave the dark forest a white heavenly luster.

Isran had been on watch for a few days; most of the Dawnguard members were out looking for recruits or supplies. So Isran had been on guard at the front gate, sitting on the platform behind the wooden wall.

Guard duty was always such petty work, Isran thought, but it was necessary work. Plus it was better than sleeping; and sleeping was for the weak.

Guard duty seemed to inflict boredom and the only cure for Isran was watching the moons and memorizing every crater marked on their rocky surfaces. Sometimes Isran would map out the stars in his mind or try and make his own constellations in exchange for a small amount of entertainment.

There was very little relief from the boring task of standing and waiting for vampires. On occasion a few members of the Dawnguard would pass by on their return and it was always interesting to see when his members would bring new recruits.

Isran had a small sadistic love for training new recruits; he liked to guess which ones would make it or which ones he would find dead in combat. Most recruits didn't last more than a few weeks, so there was little use bond with members, he was never sure which members would survive so Isran only spoke to his old friend Celann. He actually knew how to kill vampires, unlike the whelps.

Time was crawling by only too slowly, causing Isran to start cleaning his war hammer. The light from one of the lite oil basins was enough for him to see the dirt and grime. This hammer was his only defense from vampires, and Isran planned on keeping clean and ready for battle.

He shined and buffed the metal until he could see his own reflection. His dark skin blended with the night, and his black thick beard looked scraggly in the hammer's reflection. The only features that stood out was his bald head and his dull blue eyes, which burned back at him with a fierce intensity.

Isran looked away from his hammer; he hated looking at his complexion, it reminded him that he was getting old. He wasn't the same fit young man able to crush everything in sight with brute force.

He was once able to intimidate people with his mere body size, strength and his clever wit. He had never been careless or reckless; but his skills had been enough to kill most tricky enemies.

But now he had to rely heavily on experience and wisdom, and his harsh rugged look versus his power, and the thought left a prang of fury in his mind.

Isran's thoughts were shattered by a man walking up to the Fort gate.

He was clad in a thick brown undershirt and over the top was brown chainmail with the heavy silvery buckles that shimmered in the bright oil light. His faded brown Dawnguard boots were smeared in mud as he strutted toward the Fort.

His hair was a chestnut brown, but it was long and it brushed against the short scruffy whiskers that covered his face. But currently his hair was covered by the brownish gray bear-head hat that the Stormcloak officers wore. To Isran he was a spitting image of the traditional Nord.

His eyes were a blue that simmered a dark and vivid shade, but his eyes were clear with a youthful and fresh gaze.

Enden was strolling in with a downtrodden expression.

"Any luck?" Isran asked nonchalantly, in his gruff voice.

"None... I don't know where Arela went, and it's starting to scare me. I told her to wait for me near Ice water Jetty, and she wasn't there!" Enden cried out, with sorrow in his eyes. "She never seems to listen to me!"

"Oh, damn shame." Isran muttered. In reality he didn't give a shit. Arela had only posed problems and more problems were the last thing Isran needed.

Enden was cool and calm; it took a lot for Enden to become aggravated, which he obviously was with Arela's disappearance after Dimhollow. But he was definitely loyal and passionate and those were the traits needed in a vampire slayer. Isran saw it in his eyes; Enden was vengeful against the vampire kind.

Isran had always wondered what had brought Enden to hate vampires with his venomous passion. But he had never thought it was his place to ask, each member had their reason for hating vampires; it made each hunter unique. It was just odd to see a person that rivaled Isran's passionate strength to eradicate vampires. It was intriguing to say the least.

But Enden was loyal to Arela and he wasn't going to give up his search, not yet, though Isran knew it was a waste of Enden's time.

Isran had never cared for Arela, if Enden was calm like water; Arela had been like fire: angry, stubborn, arrogant, rash, wild and the list went on and on...

She had proved to be a godly archer and she was tactically savvy; but she just lacked the ability to follow orders and the desire to destroy the vampire kind. She had been too focused on hiding behind the Dawnguard, and that had troubled him.

Celann had really liked her; he was convinced there was more than what met the eye with her; that she had a mysterious charming power of will. Celann was rumored to have a gift for reading people. But Isran saw it as just talk. Isran knew Celann well; he was a person that lusted and that caused Isran to conclude that Celann had just wanted to bed her, nothing more.

Enden had been the real prize when Isran saw the pair walk in wishing to sign up. He had the brute strength that Isran had once possessed, and he had been wearing the General attire of a Stormcloak officer and a giant Nordic two-handed sword, which was proof of his skill.

And still he was proving his loyalty to the Dawnguard; he was without question Isran's favorite new recruit.

"Well, I'm going back up to the Fort; I haven't slept in a day at least. Night." Enden muttered in exhaustion.

Isran gave Enden a curt nod.

Enden passed Isran without another look. Isran could sense the stress rolling off him in waves, he was worried about Arela, but what could he do if the vampires had gotten to her.

Most likely she had just wandered off to better ventures, which were what most likely had happened. It had seemed that Arela was only consumed by the thought of coin and danger, not protecting the world from the impending vampire menace.

Isran pushed those two out of his mind, and he went back to observing the moons.

* * *

Three hours had passed, and Isran was starting to carve into the wooden spikes that tipped the barricade, with his freshly sharpened dagger.

Time was being cruel to him by moving at a snail's pace. It was agonizing to sit in one spot for hours, and judging by the sky it was only two in the morning, which meant he had about seven more hours on duty.

Isran had already polished his war hammer down to a perfect illuminating shin, only looking up occasionally to see any movement beyond the walls.

Everything was like a statue, frozen outside the Fort walls, or so Isran had thought, before two hooded figures started to make their way over toward the massive Fortress.

Their cloaks stirred behind them from the breeze off the mountains, and their pace picked up speed once they realized Isran had noticed them. Their steps were impossible to detect, and their movements were so fluid and majestic, it seemed inhuman.

They both had their faces guarded by a hood and aimed at the ground, but from their sizes he could safely infer that it was a male and a female.

They had finally approached the wall, and they halted before reaching the gate.

The male stepped forward, his black boots undetectable, "Are you the one they call Isran?" His said in a harsh tone.

Isran just stared at them for a few seconds; they didn't look like travelers or recruits, so who were these strangers?

"Yes, I am Isran. Who are you, and what do you want?" He hollered at them.

The girl stepped forward; she had a letter in her hand. She walked up to the wall and handed Isran the letter. Desperate to see her face Isran leaned forward, straining his eyes, waiting for the oil lantern light to illuminate her features, but it was shrouded in her hood still.

"We are the Jarl's messengers, so read it." The man demanded. His tone was nothing more than a growl.

Isran looked at the man in disgust and reluctantly started to open the letter, making sure not to keep his eyes off the two newcomers for more than a few seconds.

Isran ripped at the envelope; swiftly he tossed the tattered remained aside and focused on the elegantly written note.

_Dear Isran,_

_I have sent this letter to inform you that one of your members, Arela Snow-Strider, has been reported to have become a vampire. I was told that she was a member of the Dawnguard, so I thought it appropriate to notify you that you are in charge of her removal. She is highly powerful as you know, so to protect the citizens of the Rift you must eliminate her._

_One of my advisers, Maven Black-Briar, suggested contacting assassins to remove her. Maven was convinced that your Guild isn't strong enough to kill a powerful being such as the Dragonborn. Please take care of this issue immediately._

_Sincerely,_

_Laila Law-Giver, Jarl of the Rift_

Only one thought seemed to be firmly entrenched in Isran's mind, _what in Oblivion was this letter for?_

"Ok, what the hell is this about?" Isran demanded, crumpling the letter in his hand.

"Isn't it obvious, the Dragonborn was turned into a vampire under your watch? So the Jarl wants you to take care of this." The women in the dark robes said. They were both hiding their faces under their draped hood.

"Are you trying to tell me that Arela, a puny and irritating girl is the Dragonborn of legend? Because, I don't buy it." Isran scoffed, there was no way Arela was the Dragonborn, she was far from a hero, and these people must have the wrong person.

The woman's voice became filled with bile for his comment. "That is what the letter says, does it not?"

"Yes, I can read." Isran snapped back, he just couldn't believe her words. "And the Jarl, who hasn't given a shit that I've been recruiting vampire hunter out here, is going to try and tell _me_ what to do now? Because I don't care what she has to say, I'm just going to ignore her plea, because I have other issues to worry about. She can take care of this vampire 'Dragonborn' herself. And I will tell you this, Arela isn't the Dragonborn."

Isran wasn't going to let these strangers tell him what to think or do, and there was no way the Jarl was going try and make Isran do her dirty work.

"How dare you talk about the Jarl that way! If I were you, I would do what the Jarl asks." The man said.

"And why is that? Is the Jarl going to send some thugs to try and 'persuade' me to change my mind? Or is she going to use the real Jarl, Maven Black-Briar to try and bully me into following orders?" Isran fumed, he could hardly tolerate this idiocy anymore.

"Oh... no, Maven suggested we could always destroy the entrance to the pass, trapping you like skeevers in here. Or the Jarl could always have your little 'operation' shut down if you refuse to be compliant."

Isran froze, they were right... He had borrowed a lot of money from the Jarl to jump start this vampire hunting operation, and now he was swimming in debt, but he wasn't going to let the Jarl command him like a dog.

"Well that would be her lose, now wouldn't it. We are protecting Skyrim from the vampire kind. But what proof do you have that Arela is the Dragonborn?" Isran questioned.

They were silent for a few moments before the man's voice shattered the still air. "Ask her brother, he's still here isn't he? I'm sure he will tell you the same thing. She is the Dragonborn, no matter how much you don't want it to be true."

"I might ask him then... But I'm insulted that bitch Maven thinks that my Dawnguard members are incapable of killing the Dragonborn."

"Well the Dragonborn is powerful, if you haven't heard. She has slayed dragons, and that is enough proof to the Jarl of her strength. But Maven was concerned about the Dawnguard's manpower; she doesn't think you have the strength to kill her. She thinks would lose too many people in the process."

Isran scowled at the two messengers. "And since when has Maven started caring about the Dawnguard? I thought she didn't care about anything but herself."

"Oh, you're wrong. She cares about cause and effect. She wants this taken care of, because this wild and crazy vampire Dragonborn could disrupt the equilibrium and that could affect her profits."

Isran unwrinkled the letter and reviewed the contents of it once again. Arela, that girl, that tiny girl was the Dragonborn? How could she have slayed dragons and Dragon Priests, especially with that bow? Isran couldn't wrap his head around it; he realized that it could be true, but how?

"So Maven wants me to hire assassins? Why doesn't she just hire them herself? She is a proud woman; wouldn't she want all the glory of killing the Dragonborn?"

"Because the Jarl and Maven agreed that you need to take care of this, the Dragonborn was turned into a vampire while in the Dawnguard, and under your watch. They think it is only appropriate that you take of this Isran."

Isran just stared at them, wishing he could get a good look at their faces. But he guessed they were two of Maven's cronies that were just milk drinkers too afraid to show their faces. Maven had the reputation of hiring the biggest scum in the Rift to do her dirty work.

As Isran looked at them he couldn't help but question who told them this information, how reliable was their source? He didn't want to rush in without the truth; Isran was never that careless.

"But how do you know she's a vampire? Who told you?" Isran inquired.

"We have very reliable sources. She chose vampirism, doesn't just sting your ego Isran? That your own members chose vampirism." They said with their voices sounding extremely sincere.

Isran spit at their boots, and watched as both of them stiffened. He could tell they wanted to kill him right there and then. But Maven must have told them to not do anything rash.

"Well, I'll consider their request. I just don't know how her brother is going to handle the news. But I'll think about it."

He was about to say his farewells, but then one more question floated into his mind. "Do you guys know anything about the Black Sacrament?"

There was a subtle pause; Isran could feel the tension hanging in the air, as the two strangers contemplated the question.

They both stood there like statues, but the hooded man slowly pulled a book from under his robes and tossed it to Isran, which he caught softly in his arms.

Isran examined the title, 'A Kiss, Sweet Mother'. He couldn't help but cringed at the titles name, he had seen this book before but it was considered a taboo; something the average person would curse at.

"Maven thought you might need it." The women commented quietly, as Isran bore his eyes into them.

The two messengers did a little bow. "We'll be off now, just make sure it gets done or Maven will be paying a visit, and it definitely won't be pleasant."

They turned around and banished themselves back to the forest, were their black robes mixed with the shadows, and they became invisible in the night.

Isran stood there for a minute not quite sure what to do, he was caught in a perpetual on slaughter of thoughts and questions.

Could he really order one of his members to be killed? He didn't really have an alternative at the moment.

First, he was unsure of who to tell about his predicament. Who could he trust keep this a secret? The only person that came to mind was Celann, but he had liked Arela, and surely he would take the news hard and Enden... Isran didn't even want to imagine how he would break the news to him. Maybe it would be better to just tell him his sister was dead, and he could avoid having to think his sister was a raving blood thirsty monster.

That boy would sink himself in unfathomable regret and guilt, blaming himself for what happened if he thought she was dead, but at least he wouldn't have to cope with shame of the whole situation if he discovered she chose to be a vampire.

Isran liked to consider himself an honest man, but this time the truth wasn't worth the hassle it would bring. Isran couldn't afford any trouble, he had worked too hard to assemble this Dawnguard and he definitely wasn't going to allow some stupid girl ruin it.

After weighing more of the options, Isran concluded to only tell Celann the whole truth and tell everyone else Arela had died in combat against the vampires.

Now Isran only wondered how he was going to subtly break the idea of performing the Black Sacrament to Celann.

Starting into the night sky, Isran sometimes wished the darkness would just consume him so he wouldn't have to deal with anymore shit.

* * *

When the two hood figures were far from view, they paused their pace. Stalf ripped off his cloak in a matter of seconds, but Salonia was more cautious in removing her hooded robes.

"That forged letter was brilliant Salonia." Stalf complemented.

"I thought so too. My visit to Riften ten years ago finally paid off." Salonia said with a cocky tone.

Stalf smiled, "Well, hopefully Arela will be dead before she reaches Red Water Den, we need that Blood Stone Chalice."

"Yes, I hope those assassins make quick work of her. I can't wait for the moment when we walk into the Castle carrying the Chalice. We will finally receive Harkon's gaze then." Salonia grinned with malice in her expression.

"I don't think Arela is powerful enough to kill trained assassins, the Dark Brotherhood has a reputation for being successful, well at least they did for hundreds of years."

Stalf gave Salonia a smirk. "Let us venture to Red Water Den now."

"Yes, let's."


	10. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Serana/F!Dovahkiin

Night was draped over the thick golden forest of the Rift. After days of slow meandering down long paths and roads, Arela had settled outside the rickety broken down shack that concealed the entrance to Redwater Den.

Picking a hill that slightly overlooked the encampment, Arela could scout around and observe the Den. She still wasn't sure how to enter. Should she rush in with a bombardment of arrows? Or should she sneak in, with her stealthy Nightingale boots?

This was not Arela's first time visiting this dangerous drug dealer's heaven.

Tonilia and Delvin had persuaded Arela to visit it once before, convincing her that the drug trade was quite lucrative and would help the Guild gain some much needed coin.

At the time, Arela had just gained her position as Guild Master and sadly had no experience at telling older members off. She never could stand the way Mercer had shut down at such great ideas that could have made the Guild heaps of coin, so Arela had kept her mind open to new ideas.

When Arela had first entered that Skooma Den a few years ago the security had been pitiful, but what had been appalling was the condition of the Den.

The floors had been slippery, as it was covered in vomit and all matters of bile. Arela swore that her nostrils had been damaged and burned from the stench of the place. The wafting scent of piss, skooma, vomit and death had inhabited the basement room. It had been so overpowering, it had caused her thoughts to become clouded and her vision distorted. The only thing that had kept her standing was she didn't want to pass out on the vile floor. Waking up in other people's byproducts would not be a flattering moment.

After seeing the drug users with pale skin, sunken in eyes, missing teeth and barely coherent, Arela hadn't been able to force herself to talk to the drug runners. She had just left, and vowed to Delvin and Tonilia that her Guild would never get involved in such a putrid trade.

Arela shivered at the memory. The thought of returning back to Redwater Den left goosebumps on her ghostly skin. She just wanted to get this over with, and have Harkon off her back. Arela wished Serana was here to help her, this task was going to be challenging.

She already missed Serana, her bright eyes, the natural smiles and of course her sadistic sense of humor.

Arela smirked, what would Cynric think of her if he knew she was friends with Serana, a young and beautiful vampire. Oh, it intrigued Arela to see what would happen if Serana and Arela visited the Guild.

Arela sat down and tossed her knapsack next to her, quickly taking inventory of her belongings: the Blood Stone Chalice, Guild boots – Arela never went anywhere without a spare pair – health and stamina potions, extra arrows, a dagger and at the bottom was Cynric's letter.

Arela picked it up slowly and examined it once more. Should she open it or not?

She was torn at first, but the situation dawned on her. She was about to enter a den of drug lords, vampires and who knows what else. She could die within the next hour, so why not hear Cynric's possible last words to her.

She ripped open the letter without hesitation, and read his words as if she was starving for them.

_Hey Arela, you should back to the Guild sometime. I miss you, and for the record I think you're a good Guildmaster, so I'm sorry about what I said._

_Yours Truly,_

_Cynric Endell_

She felt a pang of disappointment and a small amount of delight. She had expected something more extravagant, but the words _'Yours Truly'_ made her heart skip around in her chest.

The letter reflected Cynric so much, he was often blunt in his words, not quite an articulate writer. No matter how much she wanted too, Arela wasn't planning to fawn over his letter. She had work to do, so she tucked it back into her backpack.

Arela started to swiftly pack, slipping some ebony daggers onto her belt for some quick defense. She gave Chillrend its special place in the leather holster that was close to her side.

She rearranged things in her bag, readying for her descent into Redwater Den. She gave the bag one last glance before forcing herself to get up.

As she stood up, Arela swore she heard a twig break behind her. All her senses started to explode as she whipped around just in time to see a shadowy silhouette from behind a tree.

Arela instinctively grasped her bow and notched an arrow into place with one unconscious motion.

"I know you're there, so come out with your hands up and I won't shoot you through the face with an arrow." Arela hissed, trying to keep her voice low, so not everyone in the whole Rift would hear her.

There was no response; the silence dragged out for a few seconds and the night made it impossible to guess who it was.

"Oh, damn those sticks." A women in dark robes walked out, her bright red eyes illuminating the darkness. Arela automatically recognized her.

"Serana, is that you? What in the name of the Shivering Isles are you doing wandering around in the woods?" Arela said, lowering her bow.

"Did you really expect me to stay in that castle another minute longer?" Serana challenged. "I hate it there."

"Serana, you need to go back now, this place is too dangerous for you. If you got hurt here I don't think I could forgive myself." Arela warned Serana, but Arela found it too difficult to become enraged at the young and enthusiastic vampire.

Serana smiled, "I can fight, you know? You've seen it before, I'm a necromancer, and a good one too."

"Yeah, I know, but this place is disgusting. I'm telling you to turn around to protect your health."

Serana ignored Arela's comment and strutted right past her, making her way down the hill toward Redwater Den. "Oh, really? Let me be the judge of that." Serana said with a slightly defiant tone.

Arela rolled her eyes, and threw her Nightingale bow back over her shoulder. She quietly picked up her knapsack and trudged right behind Serana's heels. Arela could sense this was going to be one long trip...

* * *

Serana and Arela had pushed their way through the Den; dealing with drug addicts, drug dealers and now finally they were starting to encounter vampires. Arela had forged ahead of Serana, simply because she had been able to sneak past the maze of traps in the previous catacomb.

Lightly pressing up against the wall, Arela could hear angry voices resonating in the cave ahead.

"We need to be careful, I have heard rumors. The Volkihar vampires are getting restless." The voice had an old scratchy tone. He must be an ancient vampire. Maybe even a few thousand years old or even possibly older than Harkon and Serana.

"We don't need to worry about them Venarus. I can hardly believe that they consider themselves the imperial authority of all the vampires in Skyrim." A young women snidely remarked.

"I had the pleasure of living with them for a few hundred years." The older vampire with the wispy replied. "I left, the leader Lord Harkon nearly drove me insane. He was always so demanding and he had his favorites. I was terrified I might become one, they never lived too long..."

The young vampire ask, "Why? Did he kill them?"

Venarus hesitated for a second before he spoke again. "No, he never did anything himself. The court politics usually kill them. If members got jealous, that was the end of you. Often the two advisers Orthjolf and Vingalmo would make them their pets and Harkon would usually order them to be killed. Harkon was a black heart... He had no compassion and loyalty was everything to him."

The old vampire paused. "I think Harkon had killed forty of his 'favorites' over the few hundred years I lived there. When he took an interest in my skill I knew I had to leave, so I fled to the Summerset Isles in hopes of leaving the past behind me."

Arela couldn't help but wonder, was she Harkon's new favorite? It was something that could be possible; after hearing that speech she prayed to Nocturnal that Harkon didn't value her. Though after he discovered that she was the Dovahkiin it was improbable that Harkon didn't believe she was a weapon he could use to keep the court members in line.

Arela despised the thought of turning into a tool. She wasn't going to let Harkon manipulate her. Harkon may be the leader of the Volkihar vampires but without Arela his power was limited, all she needed was some leverage over him and his control over the court would slip through his fingers like sand.

Arela had plenty of time to think about defying Harkon later, currently she needed to shake Harkon from her thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

She had to find a good vantage point where she could shower the leader Venarus and his followers with arrows. Arela swore Nocturnal was on her side as she slid in the chamber and saw a ledge with only one skeleton guarding it. Arela knew she could take him out with ease.

Arela silently removed her dagger from the holster in her boot; she hugged the shadows as she made her way up the incline to the rocky and jagged outlook.

Arela crept up behind the skeleton, and she quickly stabbed the dagger through the back of its skull. The sickening crack of breaking bone shook the air, alerting the vampires of Arela's presences.

"What was that?" A young female vampire said as she rose from the table below Arela. Before she could utter another word, Arela's arrow pierced her throat, which silenced her forever. She pulled out an arrow ready for her second shot, but she stopped.

The old vampire named Venarus smiled at her from a throne in the middle of the cave. "Well, well, speak of the devil. It's a Volkihar vampire. Are you doing Harkon's bidding?"

"I wouldn't call it bidding, I'm just here to do a job." Arela lied, she didn't want to be labeled as a pawn because Harkon had nothing over her.

Venarus scoffed. "You can't lie to me, Harkon only uses his court members as pets. I was with the Volkihar for a few centuries. I was able to shake them before I was forced to become Harkon's bitch, but I see you have filled the position for me."

Arela hissed, "Shut up! I'm only here to fill the Blood Stone Chalice, so get out of my way!"

He looked purely shocked at her declaration. "What did you say?"

"I'm here to fill the Blood Stone Chalice." Arela yelled. Was he deaf or dumb, or did he forget how to use his legs?

Arela pulled an arrow back in her bow. "I'll give you one last warning, move or you're died!"

"I've been looking for the Blood Stone Chalice for five hundred years and this whole time Harkon had it? But now it's here..." The old vampire looked pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, now leave or I kill will you!" Arela declared.

In a blur of motion, Venarus was gone. Arela knew vampires were fast, but how was it even possible, or was he gifted she wondered.

She kept her arrow ready to fire, but she closed her eyes. Arela let her ears take over; sensitive hearing was a godsend.

She allowed her keen ears to stretch out over the whole chamber, picking up the sounds of the red water trickling down the drain, and the whispers of a breeze that entered through a small hole in the ceiling of the cave.

Then a dark voice rang out of the shadows. "Lord Harkon must have mentioned that some of the Volkihar have rare abilities... I was lucky enough to inherit one. My speed is unmatched by any vampire."

Arela's eyes snapped open just in time to see Venarus jump at her from the ceiling of the cave; his eyes were blood thirsty.

"I need that Blood Stone Chalice and I'm going to take it from your dead body!"

Arela hardly had time to react as he crashed into her. She felt her head smack on the rock wall behind her and her body was pinned to the ground. Venarus landed on Arela, forcing the remaining air in her lungs out.

Arela throw her arm up toward Venarus's trachea, as his teeth ravenously tried to sink into her neck. She was able to push him away with just enough force that he flew off, leaving Arela time to quickly grab the small daedric dagger out of her boot.

Venarus had regained his vigor and lunged at her neck. As he did so Arela stabbed her dagger into his chest. His own momentum driving the dagger deeper into his body.

Venarus gasped in shock, as his blood spilled all over Arela's Nightingale armour. Her hands were wet from his blood slithering down the hilt and her grip on the weapon nearly slipped. His blood was colder than ice, even her frost resistant fingers were becoming numb.

"No! This can't be possible! You're a new blood–" He croaked out as he grabbed Arela's hands that were placed on the hilt of the dagger. Venarus's eyes were glazed with pain and he knew this was the end for him.

"Let me warn you, new blood. You're not safe around Harkon, he has a powerful gift, I know it. It's something you won't be able to outrun, new blood. So get out of the Volkihar clan while you still can–" Venarus whispered before his body went limp. His cryptic words rang in her brain.

What did he know about Harkon that she didn't? What was that supposed to mean? Was Harkon really that powerful? Arela had just assumed Harkon had been waving around his inflated ego, but if Venarus was right, how safe was Castle Volkihar?

Arela pushed Venarus off her, and there was a loud thud as his body hit the floor. Out of Venarus's pocket fell a key. Arela slowly picked it up and examined it.

"Hey, are you there, Serana?" Arela shouted out.

"Yeah, I'll be there is a second..." Serana stumbled into the chamber, but quickly regained her footing. "Damn traps, sorry about falling behind, I'm not quite as agile as a thief, I guess."

Serana shot Arela a weird look as she watched blood drip down her body, but then she noticed Venarus. "What happened to you, you're covered in blood?"

"It's a long story." Arela said bluntly. Arela's nerves were frazzled, she could hardly hold her dagger as she slipped it back in her boot. Trying to walk in a straight line, Arela made her way down the rocky ledge.

Below the outlook was a Nordic styled door, Arela started to make her way to the only door and with her adrenalin shaken hands she jammed the key into the keyhole, she wad surprised that it was a match.

Arela and Serana took a few steps in and looked around. This cave was different with rocky pillars and stalactites dripping from the ceiling. The cave walls were tainted a light red color and in the center was a geyser of crimson water.

So this was the bloodspring that Garan had referred to. He had mentioned that the blood of a powerful vampire need to be added to it.

Serana frowned, "There it is. Which means this adventure is nearing its end."

"Don't worry Serana, I'm sure there will be plenty more. Your father definitely won't be letting us have much of a break." Arela exclaimed and Serana's spirit seemed to darken a bit at the mention of her father. But Arela went back to surveying the cave.

From the look of it Venarus had been feeding vampires to the spring for a while. White limbs were floating in the red pools of water. Some rib cages were bobbing near the fountain, and Arela couldn't help but judge the sanity of the vampires that lived here.

Arela quickly pulled the Chalice from her satchel and filled it to the brim with red water. The only problem now was how was she going to get the filled Chalice back to Castle Volkihar, without all the blood water spilling out?

A sly smile formed on Arela's face as she pulled out her old pair of Thieves Guild boots. Dumping the contents into the boots and buckled them shut, Arela smiled. Those boots held out water, so she figured they could hold water in too.

"Very clever." Serana said with astonishment laced in her words.

"I thought so too." Arela was so happy to be done with this damn mission.

Arela stuffed the Blood Stone Chalice and boots back into her satchel and made her way toward the opposite end of the room, where two carved arch ways were located. Nordic chamber always had exits on the opposite side of a chamber.

As they made their way over, Arela picked up on the sound of footsteps.

Stalf and Salonia stalked up from beneath the archways, their eyes filled with poison and pure greed.

Salonia smiled wickedly. "It's really too bad, you know. The little... Accident you had here. It was completely unexpected." Her voice sounded like a predator stalking her prey.

"Yeah, too bad. Lord Harkon's new favorite, dead so soon after joining the family." Stalf chimed in cooly.

"Wait I'm Lord Harkon's favorite?!" Arela panic rising her voice. "I can't be!"

"Oh, yes, of course, after that little stunt with Feran, displaying to us that you are the Dragonborn."

"Oh, yes, Arela. We are going to kill you, but the worst part is Lady Serana gets to watch us rip you limb from limb." Salonia crackled.

"I will be fighting to the death with Arela." Serana interjected, her tone nothing more than a snarl.

"Lady Serana, you chose the wrong side, we will be winning this fight." Salionia's word brought Arela back to reality. Her eyes were cold, and they were entirety fixated on Arela.

There was going to be a fight. There was no doubt in Arela's mind, Stalf and Salonia were on a path of vengeance and the only end they saw was her dead. She dropped her knapsack into the red water and slipped her Nightingale bow off her back; waiting for the sign that they were ready to engage in combat.

"Now, where were we... Oh yes, how lucky was I to be able to return the Chalice to Vingalmo, so he could make sure Harkon gets it back." Salonia stated.

Stalf looked at her utterly shocked. "Wait, what? That's not what we agreed. We were going to take it back together." Stalf sneered.

Salonia rolled her eyes, "Idiot. You didn't really think I would let you walk out of here alive either, did you? Vingalmo wants all three of you dead."

"Well, that's just fine, Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone that got in the way." Stalf replied with a hurt tone.

"Oh, are your feelings hurt because I love Vingalmo? Our friendship was nothing to me." Salonia smirked with an expression as cold as ice.

Stalf growled, "I never liked you anyways, Hestla was always better than you!"

"Sure, bury your pain." Salonia spat, she was definitely hurt by that comment, no matter how much she denied it.

"I'm not hurt at all! You will be the one in pain!" Stalf screamed in fury as he conjured out flames that danced in his palms.

Without hesitation Arela grasped an arrow from her quiver and aimed. But Serana stepped in front of her, cutting off Arela's shot.

Serana summoned two icy spears and shot them directly at Stalf.

The spears were too slow, giving Stalf time to step aside as the ice crashed on the wall behind. Stalf left no time for Serana to recover, quickly shooting out two fireball in Serana's direction. But Serana threw up a ward to block them.

Serana had been right, she was a good mage, shooting spells left and right; locked in an epic battle with Stalf.

Arela turned to Salonia who was gripping an iron battleaxe, deliberately stalking around her in a leisure pace.

"You may think you're strong little Dragonborn, but you haven't been a vampire long enough to beat me."

"I've killed dragons before, Salonia. Do you really think you stand a chance against me?" Arela thundered, letting her thu'um run wild with her words.

"Well, let's see who's right, shall we?" Salonia charged straight for Arela. There was little time to react as Arela threw down her bow and withdrew Chillred just in time to block Salonia's first strike.

The blow contained so much power Arela stumbled backwards, but regained her footing just in time to block another relentless attack.

The attacks continued in a timely rhythm; patiently Arela waited for an opening. Salonia used her brute force often, trying to cause Arela to lose her footing. Soon Arela's patients was rewarded, she saw Salonia swing her battle axe high in the air to try and gain more momentum. Without hesitation Arela smacked her Nightingale boot straight into Salonia's stomach knocking the wind right out of her.

Salonia backed up ten feet while charging sparks in her palm, preparing to release a lightning strike.

Arela grabbed one of the daggers on her belt, and without another thought seized her opportunity to catch Salonia off guard. With as much force as Arela could muster, she threw the dagger, and was pleased the moment it found its mark in Salonia's left shoulder.

Salonia shrieked and gripped her shoulder in agony, crumpling down to her knees. "You dumb bitch!" Salonia howled.

Not wanting her to recover, Arela ran forward plunging Chillrend right through her heart.

"Go to Oblivion, Salonia. That's where you belong." Arela sneered kicking Salonia in the chest to withdraw her sword from her body.

Arela smiled as Salonia fell stiffly onto the ground with a deafening thud.

"No!" Stalf shouted; Arela turned to him and could have sworn she witnessed tears rise in his eyes, but the look didn't last long, because he turned to Arela with an ominous glare.

Serana had been locked in battle with him, but had become distracted with the commotion of Salonia's death.

Stalf took advantage of that by smashing his fist of charged lightning squarely into Serana's chest.

Serana was launched backwards, and smashed her skull on the side of a stalactite. Arela watched in horror as Serana laid there still and motionless, her breath was ragged as if she was choking.

Stalf ignored Serana, summoning flames in his hands once again and set them blazing after Arela.

Left with no choice, she rolled behind a small rock pillar as hot flares smashed directly into her arm. Arela moaned in pain as she rolled into the sand behind the pillar. Fireballs reigned down on her from either side of the rocky support.

The rock in front of her was slammed into by and inferno of fire turning the stone into molten chunks of rock. Arela was absolutely trapped like a rat there was no where to go, and there was no back up.

There was only one way out of this... a distraction. Arela ripped the broached pins off her Nightingale cape. It was painful taking it off knowing she had to serve up her cape as a distraction. She could hear Stalf's footsteps closing in on her through the raging sound of fire.

Arela tossed her cape to the right side, and Stalf ate the bait instantly, as he conjured up a fiery storm that blasted the cape to shreds.

Arela appeared from the left side of the of the stone pillar, like a sabre cat stalking prey. "Good-bye, Stalf." Arela muttered before sucking in a huge intake of air.

" _FUS RO DAH_!"

A snapping noise blocked the sound of the thunderous roar, as Stalf's neck and spine shattered from the blow. His body sailed through the cave feebly, as he was smashed against the wall, cracking the rest of his bones.

But Arela didn't care, she rushed over, grabbed her backpack that was covered in red water.

She knelt before Serana. Arela noticed Serana's labored breaths which meant she was still alive.

But through Serana's neat black hair, her head was bleeding, as thick crimson blood trickled from a gushing wound on the back of her skull.

Arela searched her bag and pulled out two health potions. Ripping off the cap, Arela poured the contents down Serana's throat, but Serana was still unresponsive, just laying there in silence. Her eye were twitching back in forth under her eyelids, as if searching for Arela in her unconscious state.

Panic rose in Arela; she didn't have much skill in the art of restoration, just some basic healing from Marcurio. Serana needed medical attention, the kind Arela couldn't perform. Arela picked Serana up and threw her over her shoulder, rushing her out of the cave.

"I have to get you back to Castle Volkihar. Now..." Arela whisper in dread.


End file.
